The Fallen Stars
by AcidForChains
Summary: They say that you have to be a part of the darkness, to understand it. Rose Williams, is like an exotic new bird, in the world of the Opera Populaire. But when fate conspires to lead her to the Phantom, together they unravel the darkness and light breathing, within them both...
1. Chapter 1

**This is a Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction.**

**Chapter One- Insidious**

Art is my world. And the world is art. Do not ask me of my past, for it holds neither beauty nor joy. What matters hitherto, is that this is a new beginning.

My name is Rose, Rose Williams. I escaped from, well, my past, a year ago. My past, joyless, but full of solitude, granted me a sweet little friend and time, to work on my passions, and here I am, in the Opera Populaire, to finally live them. But here, I am just Rose, for my full name, is not mine anymore, in fact, it never was.

Do you want to know how I look? I assume you do. For in today's world, people are first judged by their outward appearance, and then by what they hold inside. If you would see me, you would see a tall and slim girl, with long raven black hair, hazel green eyes, much like dainty but useless emeralds, and fair olive skin. I think I might be pleasant and exotic to your eyes. But, alas, the within differs from the without and if I must say, I wouldn't love me if I were you.

What an insidious introduction to a new beginning. I must lift my spirits and begin again. Opera houses had always held a beautiful charm for me. The yellow lighting, the red and colourful backgrounds, the wooden backstage. It's even more beautiful to now live behind the scenes of the jestful and mysterious Opera House, as the Corps de Ballet. Yes, I was a mere dancer, but not unnoticed, my talents seemed to shine no matter how much I tried to dull them in the crowd of the other dancers.

But I felt a satisfaction, living with the impressionable young girls, their sweet and pixie like spirits. Their little plays and joys were such a good distraction from my strange mind. My mind, a thing I was scared of, and still held dear to my heart. For it held ideas that mustn't belong to any sane girl, and dreams that rang with the purity of a girl of eight. They were intermixed now, producing a strange melody, but I didn't have any hope for them, now.

I hated some people as well, rather felt irritated by them. La Carlotta was one of them. Her bold and ugly voice, destroyed the vice and virtue of any beautiful piece she sang. It was all rather unfortunate. And another that irritated my mind, was the phantom of the Opera, itself. What a strange ghost, to ask of money! The new managers, monsier Moncharmin and monsier Fermin, were right to think the ghost's demands incredulous.

And yet, a part of me thanked the Phantom, for introducing a bit of humour in our lives. I had never seen him and yet I felt drawn to his aura. A fiend, but the devil always had his charm right? I wanted to see him. Was he really a ghost, or a man? Does he look like how people describe him to be?

I had friends too, Christine Daae and Meg Giry. I adored the latter's mother, she was quite a lady. And she always had an air of knowing more than she let on. Ah, me and my over perceptive mind.

Even Christine Daae, I supposed, had some secrets she kept to herself. She knew someone and loved him, but I didn't know whom. Could it be the Phantom? Oh, how romantic that would be. I felt a ping of jealousy, now where did this come from? I was overthinking, I must buy a book and read or my empty mind would soon become the devil's workshop.

But Christine was nice. She was pure and pristine and nice. She was one of the people you'd call genuinely good, it was rare. I liked her and both the Giry's too. I liked living here.

**A month later.**

Sighs escaped my mouth as if I was a young lover, pining for my beloved. I felt speechless, and yet my thoughts streamed like a waterfall upon a river. I saw him! I saw the phantom, and he was beautiful. But he didn't see me, and I was glad he didn't. He had eyes for Christine, it broke my heart, and it was absurd for I barely knew him! But he was beautiful, his appearance and his aura was, and my mind seemed transfixed on him and the past events that led to this day. Rather, this bleak night.

Christine was a success. She was genius, talent and beauty. La Carlotta had stormed out of the Opera in indignation for a part of the stage backdrop had fallen on her. (The Phantom's mischief) It was supposed to make the manager's realise her value, but instead, they found an amazing replacement for her. Our Christine.

That night, she was unparelleled and many girls wondered about her mysterious teacher. Raoul, the Vicomte De Chagny, her childhood friend and love, was visibly entranced by her, or so my Meg tells me.

And then, she dissapeared. Our new Primma Donna, gone with the wind! And with her dissapearance followed a succession of letters, saying Christine was with her Angel of Music, and demanding that she, and not Carlotta, play the lead in II Muto, or else terrible disaster, beyond their imagination, would befall them. The managers, inspecting a lover's conspiracy, decided to do otherwise.

I was very curious about my friend, and more so about her Angel of Music. I wanted to know, wanted to know more than I did. According to rumours, she had dissapeared straight out of her room, with Raoul outside, who could do nothing. There was talk about the Phantom's magic, but I knew otherwise. I thought about the possibility of a secret passageway somewhere in the Prima Donna room. I looked for oppurtunity and when I had it, I slipped into the room.

I looked behind the curtains, underneath the carpets, knocked on walls, and yet nothing came up. I seriously started considering the Phantom's magical capabilities, when I heard a noise and looked at my morbid reflection in the mirror. Taking advantage of my tall, yet petite frame, I hid behind the curtains and slowed down my breathing, so as to not make any noise.

And behold! The mirror slid to one side and a masked man came out of it. He was, enigmatic, in the least. A white mask covered the right side of his face, and yet I found myself soaking in the details of his unhidden face. He had blue green eyes, black hair, and a muscular, yet lean frame. He seemed to excude an aura of mystery and genius and he had a rose with a black ribbon tied around it, in his hand. And most surprisingly, Madame Giry entered the room. I thought she'd be afraid to see the Phantom in the room, but she looked like she had been expecting him. They conversed for some seconds in hushed tones, and he handed the rose to her. Then she left the room, as inconspicuously as she could. Now there was all but the Phantom and me, in the room. I was peeping slealthily from behind the curtains and I could not take my eye off him. Then, Oh Holy mother of God!- he looked at my side. My heart was pounding off my chest, I was sure he could hear it. I drew further back and held my breath to see him approaching towards the curtains to where I was hiding. God save me, I prayed.

Then God did save me. We both heard footsteps approaching the room and La Carlotta's shrill voice. He looked towards the curtains that hid me, once again, and with a scowl on his face, left the room through the secret mirror passageway, sliding it back to its place.

La Carlotta came and looked for something with agitation, her mouth perfume, probably, and when she couldn't find it, left the room, cursing.

I knew the mirror must be see through from behind, and I hoped to God, that the Phantom was back to wherever that passage led, and not looking through the mirror, just then. Because I had to get out and I didn't want to get caught by the irritable Spanish diva, or Madame Giry.

And so out I went. A few hours later, and here I am, contemplating his beauty and series of events that happened today.

I wondered what would happen tomorrow, when the play would be staged, with Carlotta playing the lead, and Christine being mute, much against the Phantom's wishes. He loved her, I thought, I felt a pinch of sadness. I wondered what he would do tomorrow. I really did.

**(The Phantom of the Opera)**

Ah, so I know had another intruder to deal with!

And what an intruder. Her looks were quite different. She didn't look like a Parisian, but more exotic and beautiful. There was something very brooding about her persona, and yet she looked frightened, while escaping from behind the curtain. And she should be! I now didn't know what fate she would have to suffer at my hands, but it surely wouldn't be good. No one was to know of my secret passage, and she did.

But I had other things on my mind than to think about her now...

Tomorrow would be a fateful day. A very, very fateful day.


	2. Chapter 2- A rose for a Rose

**Chapter 2- A rose for a Rose.**

Foreboding. That was what my days in the life as a part of the Corps de Ballet, usually began with. It wasn't necessarily a teller of some ill-starred fate awaiting me, but a foreboding that dictated the dull routine that the day would menacingly start with and end, quietly and nimbly. No, I didn't hate my job, in fact I loved it. The Opera house was a mystical place to live in, and I was thankful enough. But I did wonder, if my days would end like this, unnoticed, like a stream of water that gingerly flows through a beautiful part of the forest, without letting the beauty effect it, in the slightest manner.

But today was different. Yes, there was a foreboding, but not the typical one I dealt with. This was stronger, actually denoting my intuition towards something significant about to happen through the course of this day. I thought about the Phantom, and I felt, to my amazement, a kind of excitement. After a very long time I felt the blood flowing through my veins, which I had assumed to be replaced with soot, owing to certain events, in my past. I felt the blood go through my wrists and I felt a tingling in the tendons of my foot, which hampered my attempts to get out of bed and start the day. I was acting like a foolish juvenile, and while that thought was supposed to feign irritation towards my current behavior, I felt myself smiling. Now, I was assured that my sanity was gone. I was probably in great danger. What if the Phantom had seen me? He was a man, but men, many a times, held vicious beasts in their hearts. I murdered the smile off my face and hoped that my sanity would return to me like the prodigal son.

I wasn't actually taking part in Il Muto, but I was helping with the backdrop and scenery. Madame Giry, had once, chanced upon one of my morbid drawings. It was a figure of a skeleton dressed as a gentleman standing outside the gates of heavens. I thought that she would reprimand me for bearing an imagination that wasn't appropriate for women, much less for women my age. But instead, she, with a smirk on her face, dictated that apart from dancing, I would also help in the intricate art that was sometimes required in the fashioning of the pretty backdrops.

The day went by in a haze, watching and painting, and helping around. To any spectator, it would seem like another traditional day before a big performance. But for the ones working, it was different, somehow. There was an air of dreadful excitement. The managers pretended like nothing was out of place, but everybody wondered inside what would happen, now that the Phantom's demands had been boldly ignored. But it didn't show on their faces, for they were Parisians after all, and everyday was a masquerade for their true emotions. You had to be them, to really know them.

Il Muto was actually a humorous Opera about a wealthy countess having an affair with a mute pageboy, called Serafimo. In order to hide her affair from her husband and not earn his hatred, she makes the pageboy take up a disguise as a maid, while making a maid dress up as the pageboy. Much against the Phantom's demands, Christine was playing the mute role, while the countess was being played by Carlotta. My sweet Meg was playing the maid and the role of her husband, Don Attilo, was being taken up by Piangi.

The audience was welcomed in, the elite and the aristocrats, all shining in their false glory. The audience settled in their seats and as did the managers and the Vitcomte de Chagny, the latter sitting in the infamous Box Five. I, with the other girls and actors, and Madame Giry, watched from the side wings.

The Opera commenced. The red curtains opened followed by the audience's applause.

"They say that this youth, has set my lady's heart aflame! His lordship, sure, would die of shock! His lordship is a laughing stock! Should he suspect her, God protect her."

"Shame! Shame! Shame!"

The Opera was going well, the audience's response to the humour was generously imbued with laughter. Now was the part where the husband apparently leaves, and the maid's disguise comes undone, revealing the pageboy's identity.

"Serafimo away with this pretense!

You cannot speak - but kiss me in my husband's absence."

It was almost as if my foreboding was wrong. I tried to quiet my heart, but it seemed to spur on with it's nonsense! Why, in the face of everything that was going good and normal, did it believe that something extraordinary would happen? I set aside my thoughts and looked towards the ongoing play, again. Carlotta's voice rang shrill and high.

"Poor fool, he makes me laugh, time to get a better, better half."

"Poor fool, he doesn't know, if he knew the truth, he'd never ever go!"

"Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty?"

His voice had the effect of a glass suddenly breaking, except that instead of pulling me out of a reverie, it pulled me into one.

"He's here, the Phantom of the Opera", Meg whispered beside me.

"It's him", Christine quietly echoed on the stage.

"Your part is silent, little toad!", Carlotta spat out in disgust.

All this while I was transfixed by the sight of the Phantom. Just like in the dressing room, I could not take my eyes off him. He was standing on the circular catwalk just beneath the ceiling of the dome, which held the chandelier. His voice, which was echoing because of the acoustic structure of the dome, was grand and dangerous.

I heard him say quietly, "A toad madame? Perhaps it is you, who are the toad..." And he left through the door on the catwalk.

I felt slightly possessed, I wanted to follow him. I turned to go but Meg tightly held my wrist. "Oh, Rose, it's dangerous, you must stay here!", she said with consternation and fear. I controlled my senses and turned my eyes to the stage. Carlotta had returned to the stage after her fill of her mouth perfume, she so profusely used.

"Serafimo, away with his presence!"

"You cannot speak but kiss me in his...croak!"

A hideous croak had escaped her mouth. The audience was laughing, and Carlotta seemed astonished. But she visibly composed herself and tried again.

"Poor fool he makes me laugh, croak, croak, croak!"

"Mother!", Carlotta screamed with agony and ran off the stage. The audience was convulsing with laughter. The managers, inexperienced, were absolutely confused with the situation. The curtains were closed and the managers, announced that the the Opera would commence again in ten minutes with the role of countess being played by Miss Daae. Meanwhile, they asked the audience to enjoy the ballet from Act Three of that night's Opera.

Meg, at once, ran to ready herself for the ballet. I tried to help set up the scene with the others, as fast as I could. The curtains were drawn and amidst the confusion, the ballet began. The audience had never seemed to be in a more jestful mood.

I really felt possessed. I was burning inside with questions, questions about the Phantom, his relation with Christine. I had, after Christine's return, tried to pry some information out of her, but she remained dismissive and reclusive. I was just trying to steady myself and stay where I was, when it happened. The body of Joseph Buquet came flying out from above, his neck strangled by a strange lasso that reminded me of something. He convulsed for a few minutes and then his body turned as limp and lifeless as a rag doll.

This was it. I don't know what happened to me then, but I acted out of an impulse that I thought I had buried long ago. I knew I had to see the Phantom. He had killed, but why? I had heard some girls retelling the tales that Joseph Buquet had told them about the Phantom's hideous and monstrous face. Would I have to suffer that terrible fate too, because I knew one of his secrets? That question alone should have stopped me in my tracks and made me do the rational thing, like hiding in a place where he wouldn't find me. But no, I wanted to see him, and the why to that question didn't have any answer then.

Total chaos had ensued upon Joseph's hanging and the poor little girls were screaming about and running like rabbits. Madame Giry was unsuccessfully trying to quiet them. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Raoul running behind Christine, the latter seemed scared out her wits and the former was trying to reassure her about something. They were upon the staircase now, going towards the balcony. I felt concerned about Christine. It was then that my mind made the connection. The door, on the catwalk, through which the Phantom had dissapeared led to a back entry towards the balcony. What if he tried to kill Christine? I knew another back entry to the balcony, it was through the dilapidated staircase near my room. It was both, the concern for Christine, and the urge to see him, that I found myself taking the secret path I knew, towards the balcony. I entered the balcony as stealthily as a cat, and hid behind one of the gargoyles. It was then that I saw the Phantom, he was standing behind a big black sculpture. I thanked the Providence, that he had not seen me. I now saw Christine and Raoul, too. The Phantom was hidden from them, and I from the Phantom.

Christine was singing about the Phantom, about the endless night he lived in, about his disfigured face. I looked at the Phantom, and I wondered about the masked part of his face. Could it really be as bad as Christine described it to be? Then she sang about his magical voice, and the effect he had on her spirit. I had no doubts about the magic that he held with him, he was entrancing, even to a stranger like me, who had only watched him from the shadows.

The night took another turn, Christine and Raoul began singing of summertime and the sweet love they held in their hearts. They were like a dream, such flawless young lovers. They confessed their love for each other and kissed. I could feel the Phantom's gloom pervading the air, but the couple seemed oblivious to it, lost in their own little world. They left the balcony, making plans about their merry future together.

The Phantom left his hiding place. I straightened up but he too was oblivious, lost in his dark and forbidden world, perhaps. He walked up to the rose with the black ribbon on it, that Christine had dropped and picked it up. It was then that I heard his beautiful voice. I couldn't make out the words but just the melody and his strange and haunting voice. He was singing in heartbreak and my heart was breaking with his. I, in a trance, started walking towards him. It wasn't until I was just beside him that he noticed me. He got up and faced me. It seemed that he was in a trance too. I saw tears on his face. We were both strangers, and he was a killer too, but nothing mattered in that moment. I was empathizing with him and he was soaking in my empathy. I extended my hand to dry his tears, and I touched his face. The trance broke. The previous roles we had assumed, got lost in the cold wind, and the reality was exposed. He was a killer, the Phantom of the Opera, and I was his prey, a foolish girl, who had dared to follow him twice. I felt his rage and heartbreak directed right towards me. He drew out his sword and my feet took me towards the edge of the balcony. The possibility that he was just trying to scare me, didn't enter my mind and I was cowering like a baby bird stuck in a blizzard. He flew towards me and grasped my hair tightly. I cried out in pain but his leathered hand muffled my voice. He drew the sword to my neck. He grasped me tightly from behind. Terror gripped me. I didn't want to die. He was facing the outer edge and his grasp only tightened. I prayed to God and started struggling violently against him. It threw him off balance and whatever happened next was a blur, yet seemed sluggishly slow to me. It was as if time, itself, had slowed down. My struggle tipped him off balance and he was tipped off the balcony. My sharp reflexes helped me then, and my hands gripped on to the sword he was holding before he could be completely thrown off. Unbearable pain shot through me but I had to hold on for his sake. When he realized what I was doing, he gripped the handle of the sword with his other hand as well and I put whatever strength that I had in my reserve, to pull him up. The blade cut deeper into my hands but I let the tears soundlessly fall out of my eyes. The pain was indescribably excruciating and yet I held on. Deeper so that my hands wouldn't slip through all the blood. When he was at level with the edge, he let go of the sword and helped himself upward. I was thrown a bit backward but I steadied myself. I let go of the sword and looked at my hands. There were big grotesque gashes across both of my hands. They were bleeding profusely, and normally the sight would have nauseated me, but I was too dizzy and entranced to feel anything else. I felt so weak. I looked at him and saw that he was staring at me with astonishment, as if he couldn't believe what I had just done for him. He moved towards me, until he was inches away from me. Even I couldn't believe what I had done for him. What emotion lay behind these actions? Slowly I felt my thoughts scattering away, like dandelions in the wind and I saw stark blackness appear in front of my eyes. My knees lost all their strength, and I collapsed. Yet, I didn't feel the impact. A hand was supporting my head. I turned my eyes and saw that the Phantom was kneeling beside me, his eyes full of concern. Concern? The Phantom? I turned my head away again, I felt delusional and weak, and saw the rose lying beside me. I extended my hand, which was still bleeding heavily, and picked up the rose. It was beautiful. I closed my eyes and the darkness took me in its abode.


	3. Chapter 3- The Savior

**Chapter 3- The Savior**

_**Erik.**_

I had never felt such anguish, upon seeing Christine confess her love for Raoul. He was bound to love her, but she? She had betrayed her Angel of music. She had rejected him. I had always thought that hatred and love were contrasting emotions, but now I felt them fuse inside my heart. It was painful, it was beguiling. Yet my tears didn't stop.

I looked at the rose in my hands. She had discarded it, just as she had discarded my love for her. It was one of those moments when sorrow takes over your composure, your body, your heart, your soul and everything loses its substantiality.

I had not heard her approach. I was lost in my woe when I had felt a presence beside me. I looked up and saw that it was the girl who had intruded upon me, before. She looked angelic and alluring, her black hair seemed to mold into her black cape. Her big exotic eyes, the color of dark foliage and her dark red lips upon her angular face appeared like they had been beautifully painted by an old master.

But it was not so much as her beauty, but her soul, that entranced me. She was looking at me, with a strange emotion seeping through her eyes. What was it? Love? Empathy? But whatever it was, it comforted me like hearthside being provided to a man dying of the cold.

Her hand reached out and touched my face.

That action of hers was all it took to draw me away from my entranced state. She was an intruder, one who was aware of my secret passage! And she had dared to follow me twice. This little bird had to be done away with. I wouldn't kill her, but I would twist her feathery neck to the extent where she would not to be able to even sing of my existence.

She tried to flee but I grabbed her and pulled her towards me. Her reaction was instant. Whatever foolish trance she had been in before, was now severed as well. She looked at me like a prey looks at his predator just before it's about to be devoured. I felt a sting inside my heart, and it perturbed me. But I turned a blind eye to it and strengthened my grasp on her. Her attempt to shriek was stifled by my hand. She was now cowering out of fear. There, that stinging again. What was upon me? I scorned at myself internally. I placed the sword upon her neck and settled my other hand on her waist, so that she would not be able to escape. I saw the pure horror in her eyes. I was sure that she believed that I would completely obliterate her. She started struggling stormily. I had not noticed that we were on the edge of the balcony, with me facing the outer side. Her struggling upset my balance and I stumbled off the edge. In a flash I realized that I was going to die. But then I realized that I wasn't falling. I looked up and saw that she was holding on to my sword tightly to prevent my demise, the same sword with which I had imperiled her life. I clutched the sword with my other hand as well and she began to pull me up. She was clutching the sword hard, so that it wouldn't slip through all the blood which had already begun to ooze out of her hands. I could not even imagine to fathom the torment that she must be bearing at that moment, to save my hideous life. At last she managed to pull me up and I let go of the sword. She stumbled a bit backward from all the effort, while I pulled myself up. She let go of the sword and looked at her hands. I looked at her hands. The wounds were monstrous, the sight itself was howling with torment and agony.

But I couldn't swallow the fact that she had gone through such peril to save a man who had threatened her existence, just moments before? Her fear of me had been real, I could affirm that without a pinch of skepticism. But so had been that strange emotion in her wild eyes, when she had reached out for me in my sorrow, without even considering the consequences to which she could possibly expose herself to. I felt a warmth settle inside my heart, like a fire melting the blizzard inside of me. Who was she? But importantly, what was she? Such an absurd yet fantastic creature that I couldn't even begin to comprehend. Whatever she was, I couldn't lose her now.

The fire that she had lit inside of me began to burn me with concern. She looked as pale as death, her tears were drying on her cheeks, which was evidence of the malady that she had endured. She had lost a great amount of blood, she had probably cut deep enough to injure the veins inside of her palms. She looked delusional and fragile. I was startled by the intensity of fear that I felt for her life.

Her knees gave away and she started to collapse. I rushed towards her and put my hand underneath her head before it could hit the ground. She looked at me but there seemed to be no emotion in her eyes. Was she dying? No, I couldn't let her meet her doom like this. I felt truly anxious now. She was looking at something else now. It was the rose that I had gifted to Christine. She reached out her hand and picked it up. She admired it dreamily. Then, like a falling star she closed her eyes and streamed into oblivion.

My senses returned. I needed to save her and I needed to act, expeditiously. I tore away a part of my cape and enveloped her hands in it, as firmly as I could, in order to curtail the bleeding. Her dress was cold from the snow. I rested my hand on her forehead and the exposed region of her neck, and realized that she was flaming with fever. I quickly secured her cape around her dress and then mine too, so as to not leave any part of her unprotected. I, then picked her up and she seemed as light as a feather.

I had no time to misspend. With her hands tightly bundled around her center, I clenched her body to mine, firmly, and dashed as swiftly and nimbly as I could, to my lair. There was no other place to take her. Her condition would not gather as much uproar, as my masked face would. Together we would be an indescribable mayhem, if anyone chanced upon us. I could not use the entrance of the Prima Donna room, so I had to use another one. This Opera house was my playground, I was aware of hidden passages, trapdoors in places that no one could even think of. Not even the plethora of doltish managers that were appointed to this Opera house. There was a room near a dilapidated staircase that led to the balcony, probably the one she had used to infringe upon me. In that room, there was a cupboard that had a secret entry to one of the tunnels that led to my shady lair. I seldom used it but today that cupboard was imperative to her, and in succession, to me.

Gratefully, there was no one inside the room. I opened the spacious cupboard, which was replete with some maiden's clothing. I slid my hand to the inside wall of the cupboard and pulled the secret lever, which metamorphosed the wall into a sliding entryway which led to the covert tunnel. I pushed us through the clothes and entered into the tunnel. The tunnel was dark and dingy, as I had never bothered to use it. After travelling through it, for some moments, we finally reached my lair. It was alight and adequately warm, I dearly hoped that it would provide her ailing body with some warmth. I laid her gently down on the bed, on which previously Christine had rested. I had assumed that even thinking of Christine would bring pain to my soul, but my anguish for the girl was so engrossing that I hardly felt any inkling of torment, within me.

I unwrapped her hands and saw that the bleeding had presumably curtailed, but only slightly. It was still difficult to discern that fact completely. I found some white satin cloth and enveloped her wounds in that. The white cloth would make it easy for me to figure out the extent of her bleeding. Her dress was now smeared with blood, defiled and cold. She needed to be changed, but I couldn't do it myself, I needed help. I quickly took off the wintry capes from her and wrapped her up in warm and fresh blankets. She nestled herself unconsciously in a womb like position.

Again, I had no time to misuse, I hurried off into the tunnels. I required Mme. Giry's assistance. Fortunately, it was the time when she paid a visit to my Box Five, and I knew I would find her there.

Her demeanor dictated that she was furious with me. She knew that I was capable of killing, but the fact that had I created such furor and left the half of the Opera house witless and scared was an inexcusable fact for her. But I had no time to elucidate the facts to her. I clutched her hand and led her through the passageway in the Box Five, into the lair.

Upon seeing the corpse like form of the girl, her fury knew no bounds. She drew me into a corner and vehemently asked for an explanation. Once I had illuminated her with the gravity of the situation, she understood that she too, must act fast, and leave the reprehension for another time.

I had arranged for bandages, a fresh dress, and a needle to stitch back her wounds. Mme. Giry unclasped her hands, and proceeded to clean her wounds. The bleeding had lessened positively, but she had still lost a good amount of blood. She would need to be revived once her wounds had been taken care of. Mme Giry and I, then, started working upon the stitches. Her wounds were quite deep, and I felt miserable upon seeing her catastrophe. I inserted the needle into her skin and she moaned quietly in her sleep.

Once we were done, Mme. Giry motioned me to give them some privacy. I did as I was instructed.

After some moments, I found Mme. Giry by my side.

"The girl's fever has subsided, but now she is as cold as death. I must go, but you will treat her with some ale and try to revive her. I hope you have some sensibility left, to realize that she almost gave up her life for you, for those wounds, if had not been treated in time, would have surely led her to her demise. She isn't a threat to you, Erik, and you will treat her kindly!", with those stern words, Mme. Giry proceeded towards the tunnels alone, for she knew her way back, quite well.

When she was gone, I approached the girl. I had forgotten to ask Mme. Giry about her name. Well, she must answer that question herself. I would take care that she retrieved her health back, within the night, to do so. I drew some ale into a glass and went towards her morbid form on the bed. I felt an instinctive need to protect her, to comfort her. It wasn't like I felt that it was my duty to, since she had saved me, but because of what I had seen in her eyes, that strange emotion, the way she had endured such torment and that too, to save someone who had imperiled her own life! What did she see in me? She herself seemed like a mystery, such an exotic and beautiful girl. Many girls were beautiful, but most of them were like empty machines, with nothing of substance, inside. But she had a heart and a soul, and you could see it distinctly in her vivid eyes.

I lifted her head up and drew the glass up to her lips. Her lips parted slightly and I made her drink the ale. Some colour appeared in her cheeks. I felt relieved.

The hours passed by. I had made her drink some more ale, and her body was warm now. She was presumably getting better.

I was looking at her from a distance when she cracked open her eyes. She took in her surroundings and looked at her hands and dress. Then she looked around and her eyes landed on me. I could not discern her expression then, she appeared to be remote. I walked up to her.

"Thank you", she said, glancing at her hands. But as soon as she had uttered those words, she drew her breath and started coughing.

I filled her glass with water and made her drink it. She looked at me with those dainty eyes, and they unnerved me, it was as if she was trying to see through me.

"You incredulous girl", I said, feigning irritation. "If it was not for me and my madness, you would not have gotten those wounds in the first place."

"But I had followed you", she quietly interjected, looking down.

I put my finger under her chin and drew her face up. The action made her blush and she continued to keep her eyes down, concealed from me. I felt fascinated by her as a little boy is fascinated by a beautiful flower.

"And you shall tell me properly why you did what you did", I asserted in all seriousness, "but not now."

"For now you will rest after telling me your name."

"Rose", she spoke softly, never looking up.

"Rose?"

"Just Rose."

Her face had hardened up and I wondered why. Did she have no identity? She must have one. The mystery that she carried around with herself, had thickened considerably, now. What could a petite girl like her, possibly hide?

"You will stay the night here, Rose. Longer, if your condition commands it. If you need me, call out to me, I am just on the other side of this accursed abode and I shall come."

I turned to leave.

"I can't tell you."

I turned to face her. She was staring at me, then, and her glare, slightly confused yet frighteningly bold, might as well have belonged to a demon's.

"Can't tell me what, Rose?"

"I can't tell you why I followed you, because I do not know myself."


	4. Chapter 4 - Little Lotte

**{My version of Christine's childhood is based on Gaston Leroux's version of her childhood, and not on Andrew LLoyd Webber's.}**

**Chapter-4-Little Lotte**

"Daddy, are you alright?"  
"Yes, sweetheart, I'm fine."  
"But, Mamma Valerius says that you're very ill!", little Christine, with tears in her eyes, sobbed for an explanation.  
Her father picked her up and placed her on his lap.

"Perhaps, I am a bit unwell, my love."  
He put a finger on little Christine's lips who was just about to burst into a stream of tears.  
"But, darling, I'm not going to leave you this soon. But whenever I go, I shall go to your mother, and I will be very happy there."  
The girl's doleful eyes still looked  
anguished.  
"And when I am in heaven, my child, I shall send the Angel of Music for you. And he shall watch over you, and bless you with his heavenly music."  
"Oh, father!, little Christine forgot about her sorrow for a moment and asked excitedly, "How would I know that it's him?"  
"My beautiful child, you shall know within your heart. His music will be celestial, and his voice, enchanting. And he will bless you. Don't you ever wonder how some children of six, are able to play the fiddle better than men of fifty? They have been blessed by the Angel of Music, just like little Lotte.

Christine pressed herself against her father's chest and mumbled, "Will we go to the fairs this year, Daddy? I want to sing to your violin once again."

"Yes, we will, my child. Yes, we will."

888

I missed my father. I missed his violin, his comforting lap. His eerie legends of the north, that me and Raoul could never get enough of. I even missed the way little Raoul and I were, we had the same pace of mind, calm and dreamy. We would knock on cottage doors and charmingly ask for stories and old Breton legends. Those were such pretty times, lucid happiness comforts me when I think about those memories.

My mother had died when I was six. My father, a peasant at that time, had sold his land and went to Upsala, looking for fame and fortune. But instead, he had found only poverty. He then returned to the country, wandering from fair to fair, playing his divine violin. I would roam with him, listening to him in elation, and would sometimes sing with him. It was at one of these fairs, that Professor Valerius found us. He liked my father's playing and said that I had the makings of a great artist. He took us to Gothenberg, and paid for my education and instruction. We later settled in France with the professor and mamma Valerius, his wife, but daddy began to pine away with homesickness.

But we would still go on trips to the Scandanavian fairs, he'd steal me away for a week. Father had already began to lose his health when we went to our last trip. We would behave like such strange vagabonds. He played and I sang, just like the old times, but daddy forbade it to collect money and we would sleep in the hay, just as we had, when we had been faring with poverty. People would wonder about us.

My memory of the time when I had first met Raoul, is rainless. I was at the shore of an inlet, alone. Father had gone to take care of some errands, and had left me there to enjoy the crystal yellow sky and the cobalt waves. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blew away my scarf. I had myself, nearly toppled into the sea, but my little mind could only care about my pink silk scarf that the impish wind had greedily snatched away from me, and thrown into the sea.

But then I had heard a little boy's voice.

"It's all right, I'll go and fetch your scarf out of the sea."

And the boy ran into the sea, much against the scornful objections of a lady dressed in black. He had jumped into the sea, in his nicest clothes, and had come out, with the scarf, dripping wet. He had ruined his clothes, but I was delighted that he had rescued my scarf. I kissed him. I had kissed the little Vicomte De Chagny, who had come to stay with his aunt in Lannion, for recreation.

For that time, we saw each other and played together, every day. Daddy Daae would tell us stories, his voice hushed, as if afraid to awake the ethereal beings that he talked about. One story went like this..

"Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing. Her hair was golden as the sun's rays and her soul as clear and blue as her eyes. She wheedled her mother, was kind to her doll, took great care of her frock and her little red shoes and her fiddle, but most of all loved, when she went to sleep, to hear the Angel of Music."

Three years later, Raoul visited us. Professor Valerius had died, and mamma, me and father lived together. Things had changed, we had grown up. Raoul looked handsome and when I saw him, feelings awakened in my heart, that I had not previously known of. He came up to me and kissed me. And I could not help but blush. But I knew within my heart, that we couldn't be together, that Christine Daae could not be the wife of the Vicomte De Chagny, and I accepted that fact, the moment that I had realized it. I believe he felt those strange feelings as well, but he also knew that we could never possibly be one.

We talked for some time, about everything excluding our actual contemplations. At last he went, after kissing my trembling hand.

"I shall never forget you, Mademoiselle!", he had said.

* * *

Then father died. I had had a peaceful existence, before. I had willed myself to forget about my childhood love and had performed my duties with care, and had learned the art of music, wholeheartedly. It gave me foremost happiness to please my father, and to keep my loved ones content. But after father's death, I lost my inspiration. I could not sing as I had before. By that time, I had entered the conservatoire. I still performed my duties sincerely, it provided me satisfaction to please Mamma but I could not dispel the emptiness within me to retain the art that I had previously possessed.

And then I had met my angel of Music, he had brought me happiness. My father's words came true, I felt euphoric that he had kept his promise, and sent the hallowed Angel to watch over me. I was assured now too, that my father was at peace. I retained some of my peace too, with that verity, but only a fragment of it.

For my strange Angel of Music had awakened such strong feelings in me. His voice was celestial and grand and divine, just as father had described it. He tutored me, and I retained my lost genius in no time at all. But he was a mystery, he talked out of walls, and he had not yet showed himself to me, then.

And then I got the opportunity to sing.

The audience was enthralled.

The Corps de Ballet, and my friends were surprised by my voice.

But most of all, my Angel was happy.

He had told me so, still hidden, when I had gone to pray to my father.

I was in the Prima Donna room, when Raoul visited me. He was the new patron of our Opera house, but I had assumed that he had lost his memory of me.

But he had not. He seemed ecstatic to see me. And even I couldn't help but be delighted to see him. The feelings I had felt for him, had never deserted me, I had then realized. Even the spark in his eyes made it evident that his situation was very similar to mine.

We took a dip in our childhood memories and laughed merrily, nostalgic.

I even told him about the Angel of Music.

"He visited me, Raoul."

"Oh no doubt, he did Christine, the way you sang tonight..."

He did not understand.

He wanted me accompany him, so that he could spend some more time with his Little Lottie. But he didn't understand, the Angel was stern, and I had to be loyal to my teacher.

He had gone out to arrange for the carriage, when I heard the Angel's voice booming with anger.

I tried to assuage him, it hurt me to hurt him, and demanded to see him.

And I finally did see him.

Now that I think about it, he was like a dream, coming down to me on white, angelic wings. But then, the dream, changed, the moment I realized that my Angel of Music, was actually the Phantom of the Opera. He had taken me into his lair and had sang to me his Music of the Night. It had been unlike anything that I had ever experienced before, his voice as divine and dark, as the starry sky, that stands over cursed and magical lands. The dream was still beautiful, but not as angelic, it had revealed the true tenubrous nature of it's beauty, but I still couldn't bare to wake up from it, I was reveling in the dark and the deep. He invoked in me such feelings, that I could not recognize as my own. But the dream turned into a nightmare, when the mask came off his face. His face was so distorted, that it was hardly a face. It had been a deception! I couldn't help but feel pity for the monster, but I wanted to wake up from the nightmare that he was. But how could that happen? What I had seen, would haunt me for life.

He had returned me to the Opera house, on demands that I, and not Carlotta, play the countess in Il Muto, but they had done otherwise. And he had killed! He had murdered a man, because they did not pay heed to his commands. Whatever clemency that I had felt for him, was now replaced with trepidation. He was distorted inside and out, and I feared what future I would have to endure with him.

And then Raoul appeared . His presence cessated my angst, brought me peace and warmth. Our souls were alike, I felt safe and secure within his arms. He had no terrible night within him, but only beautiful sunshine to offer. He proposed, and brought me pure elation, one that had no discord concealed within. I wanted a future with him, his beauty, his love, his warmth. My fear dissapeared as I kissed him. That beatific connection, that we had felt as children, sharing our dreams and chimeras, was now strengthened with the love that we held inside our hearts. He would rescue me out of my nightmare, just as he had rescued my scarf out of the sea.


	5. Chapter 5-Insane

**Chapter-5-Insane**

Dark. It's so dark.

I cannot breathe.

I'm locked here. Someone kill me, please.

I am in a cellar, the nine year old Rose. The walls are a decayed shade of blue. To me, the place is reeking of death. My eyes fill with tears as I glance around myself. I hunch up, pulling my knees to my chest, and pray. The tale that my friend Emily had narrated to me about this place, finds it way through the vaults of my young mind, into my consciousness.

"Do you really want to know, Rose? Won't you get scared?"

"No! I am not a child!", I had said.

"They say, Rose, that once a servant named Joseph had lived at your house. He had a little daughter, just like us! She was his life, his wife had died while giving birth. She had black hair and eyes as blue as the blue gems that mamma sometimes wears when her friends come to visit us. One day, she was playing around in the garden, when a frog appeared in-front of her. She had never seen a frog, Rose! And she went after it, followed it, like we follow butterflies. But the frog, I think he got scared and jumped into the well. And you know what she did Rose? She jumped into the well, too! When his father found her, he got so sad. He got very mad at your...um, great-great grandma too, because he had left her in the old lady's care. He killed himself in the cellar of your house, Rose, before declaring that he would haunt your, um what was that word, ah yes, generation, for years to come!

The legend had seemed like such an impelling and spooky thing, then. Now, cramped up in the dingy cellar, the genuineness of the tale seems to be painted in blood. I try to get up and find a way to escape the appalling depth of the haunted cellar, but fear traps my little feet in iron shackles.

I start to weep. A numbing feeling courses through my mind and body. It's sad and terrifying. I think about my life outside the cellar, and I realize that it's as painful as being in this dark place. The thought calms me. Despair fills me, and I start mumbling things that make no sense. I like the numbness and the sadness, it's far better than the fear.

Hours pass.

I hear a noise. It's a shuffling noise, like somebody is touching the wine bottles kept on the shelves.

Fear lays a soft hand on my heart.

I look up.

The noise increases. There's nobody there, I notice. Suddenly, I hear footsteps. The deafening silence makes it effortless to notice that the footsteps are in that very room.

That soft hand of fear, now starts clawing at my heart.

I hear knocking sounds. Like somebody is knocking on the walls. My mind and body silently scream for escape.

Thud.

I look at the chimney. It's filled with dust. I hear a loud thudding noise coming from inside. My insides feel like shutting down. Suddenly, a petrifying wailing sound pervades the dark room and with a deafening hammering cry, the dust comes flying out of the chimney.

Terror erupts inside my soul and I scream.

888

I opened my eyes to see the Phantom leaning over my face. He was holding my wrists firmly as if trying to prevent my movement.

"If you had resolved to kill yourself, then you should have called for me." The statement was supposed to express aggravation, but I could only see concern and, surprisingly, fear, in his eyes.

I closed my eyes, and the nightmare's vision greeted me, with bare fangs. So unreal, and yet so real. It felt so strange. Feelings, after such an extensive length of time, were flowing through my veins, as they had before. Despair, fear, excitement, exhilaration and another foreign feeling that I could not place, at that moment.

I felt alive, and I felt insane. It seemed like nothing in the world counted, like everything was an illusion. I could not care if I died, or I lived. It had the same impression in my mind, then. I did not want to think, about the insignificant little details of the circadian human life.

I opened my eyes, and gazed at a lantern lying at the distance. The yellow light seemed to fascinate me. Why couldn't we just be? Just like the yellow light, for it didn't have to involve itself in the cursed drill of an unnecessarily meaningless existence. Why couldn't we be like the yellow flame, burning, beholding the beauty of the numerous, wonderful things around it, and appreciating them?

I looked at the Phantom and discerned the hint of fear in his eyes. Then I realized that the fear was two-sided. The Phantom was afraid for me, but he was also afraid of me.

The sheer possibility of that fact was hilarious to me. My laughter rang through the lair. It sounded deranged, even to my own ears.

His hand touched my forehead. His hand felt so cool against my skin.

My body was flaming up, but I liked the sensation. I liked the heat of the feelings flowing through me. Was it them that was making me feel so warm all over? The frostiness of the cold wind on my skin felt prepossessing.

I looked at the Phantom, once again. His face was alight with consternation, as he redid my bandages. I had, assumably, teared through them in my sleep.

He was so beautiful. His aura, so haunting, and bold and filled with forbidden things, that drew me to him. Yet, his eyes, cold and calculative, blistered with raw human emotion, at times. Did anyone appreciate him? Did anyone tell him how beautiful he was, even from a distance?

I wanted to be like the yellow flame, I wanted to appreciate the beauty around me.

I reached out my hand, and touched his face.

He turned to look at me.

"You are beautiful", I told him boldly, looking into his haunted eyes.

And then the darkness engulfed me.


	6. Chapter 6-Sleepless (Part-One)

**Chapter-6- Sleepless. (Part-One)**

"Rose? Rose?"

No, I don't want to wake up. Please, please don't make me wake up. I like the darkness, it's welcoming me. Please, kill the lights. I don't want to face them.

I felt somebody shaking my frame, strongly.

"Rose? Wake up! Wake up, Rose!"

I opened my eyes. The light pierced through them, like a thousand tiny needles. I shielded my eyes with my hands. Then, I felt soft hands caressing my face.

"Rose, it's okay. Slowly open up your eyes, it will not hurt.", I recognized Madame Giry's thick accented voice, resonating with distress.

I did as she had dictated. It still hurt, but I made the effort to bear it.

I saw Madame Giry's authoritative figure before me.

"Oh, thank the heavens! I had thought that you would die! But don't worry, you are fine now. I had to call a doctor, or we would have lost you to that wretched fever you had because of your wounds. But as I said, you are fine now." She seemed to be giving a motherly order, rather than stating that fact.

I glanced around myself, I was back in my room. My cupboard's door was wide ajar, and it looked as if somebody had ruffled through my clothes.

I remembered everything. The trance that I had been in, the way I had exposed myself to the Phantom and his wrath. My terrible nightmare, the fever. I remembered how, the proximity to my death, had cracked open my shield, and let my deeply preserved feelings flow through my being.

At that moment, I had felt insane and beautiful.

Now, I felt depressed by what doors I had opened inside of myself. I had spent years, carefully constructing the shield within me, and now it was cracked.

Those tormenting memories could come back to haunt me.

I valued my sanity. I feared for it.

"Sleep now, Rose. I will come and give you your medicine in the morning, child. You must rest."

Mme. Giry turned to leave.

Then she turned around, and looked into my eyes.

"Oh, and Rose? You got those scars from trying to flee from a ruffian, who had attacked you, you had gone for a stroll in the city. When you didn't return, I searched for you, and found you on the street, unconscious and dying. I bandaged your hands. If anybody asks, you will tell them this."

Then with a scowl on her face, she said, "He, the phantom, doesn't deserve it, but I know that you are someone he can trust. He told me to tell you that he only meant to threaten you, on the balcony. Yet, see where it led us", Mme Giry said, looking at my damaged form. "Although, you too, did a very foolish thing to follow him!", she proclaimed, with a scowl that was directed solely towards me.

"I know", I managed to say, with a raspy voice.

She changed her expression, to a sympathetic one, and left the room.

The phantom, yes. I remembered him, too.

The way shock had engraved his face when he had realized that I had saved him. And in the lair, when he had looked concerned and fearful, for me.

Warmth spread all over my body.

I had told him, that he was beautiful, but I didn't know his reaction. I had fallen into an unconscious state, just after I had made the bold statement. I could not come to regret it. I still believed that he was beautiful.

The coldness that my earlier predicament had brought, seemed to dissolve inside the thoughts of the Phantom.

Was I that infatuated by him? Was it infatuation? What was it? I didn't know.

But it felt good, thinking about him. His blue green eyes, his dark persona, and the raw emotions, behind that exterior. He was part of the reason, that I had lost a part of my sanity, but he was the one who was now preventing me from falling, completely, into the abyss.

The night went by, but I found it hard to sleep. The fever had subsided, and my mental faculties had returned to an orderly form, but my body felt weak, and my wounds had started stinging, quite painfully.

After a while, my eyes drooped and sleep greeted me.

But my dream led me back inside that haunted cellar, and I again became the nine year old Rose, begging for release.

Thankfully, the dream ended quite too soon as my eyes flew up, my body drenched in sweat and terror. No, I couldn't sleep. I couldn't go back into that cellar again, I couldn't risk my precious sanity.

So I willed myself to remain awake and my thoughts passed through millions of things;The first time I had performed in the Opera, the times spent with the impish girls of the Corps de Ballet, Mme. Giry's sternness and motherly instincts, Joseph Buquet's body hanging from the upstage, Christine and Raoul's confessions, and lastly, my experience with the Phantom, himself.

My thoughts ran by, my eyes agape, riveted to the darkness. But, I also felt another feeling, an intuitive one, when you come to know internally that someone is watching you. The instinct was so strong, that I couldn't deny it, but then, I was absolutely alone in the room, so it couldn't be. I went back to the running stream of my thoughts.

The day shone in, finally. The sun's rays, struggled a bit, to get through the small and dusty window of my room, and then illuminated my very small, but homely abode. The feeling of being watched had vanished.

Mme. Giry entered my room.

"Rose? Did you not sleep? Are you alright?"

She checked my forehead for any signs of a fever, but found none.

"I slept quite well, Mme. Giry, thank you for taking care of me. You do not need to worry at all, I just woke up", I assured her as convincingly as I could.

But she was not a woman to fool, I could see it on her face.

"You are my daughter's age, Rose, and thus like one to me. There is no need to thank me", she announced, with a tight smile on her face.

"Here, take these",she handed me my medicine and a glass of water.

I took the medicine, and smiled at her.

She returned the smile.

"Meg has gone to visit a friend, and she will return soon. Till then, I will try and keep you away from any unnecessary company, for you must rest.",Mme. Giry turned to leave.

"And Christine, Mme. Giry? Where is she?", I asked her in a feeble tone.

She left the room without answering me.

I wondered about Christine. Was she with Raoul? She wasn't with the Phantom, I knew that much. On the balcony, she had seemed so terrified of him. Of his endless night and his distorted face. But, she still had recalled the way his beautiful voice had made her spirit soar. But she was in love with Raoul, they were both deeply in love with each other. They were like exquisite love birds, the kind that you happen to chance upon, on a rare aurora, once in a lifetime.

Was Christine right to be terrified of him? Was the Phantom really such a monster? He had killed Joseph Buquet, but why? There must be a reason to it, even monsters did not kill without reason.

I recalled whatever I could, of Joseph Buquet. Burly, hard- featured man. And his exterior reflected his interior to perfection. Within the corps de Ballet, it was a noted fact, that he would, many a times, stalk the new and pretty girls employed within the Opera house. He would ogle at the dancers disgustingly. Mme. Giry was well aware of his perverted personality, and would take extra care to keep him away from us. But what had he done to the Phantom, to be murdered by him?

So many questions haunted me, and yet they kept me company through the lonely day. I tried to draw, but with my damaged hands, the task felt impossible. Some of my fellow dancers were sent by Mme. Giry to visit me in my solitude, with food and drink, and the bogus story of my misadventure with the monstrous ruffians, had already been disclosed to them. They had kind words to offer, and sweet sympathy, but I could only feel slightly amused with it all. Such a simple story to replace the complicated events that had led to my condition.

But it wasn't my physical state, but my mental state that bothered me. The meager amount of sleep I had acquired, had started to plague me, but I could not afford to sleep, to face the nightmares, my memories again. I held my sanity close to my heart.

So I restrained my thoughts about the matter of my sleep, and tried to think of other things.

The day went by, grudgingly slow. The feeling I had felt of being watched, did not reoccur throughout the day.

As the night approached, Mme. Giry came to give me my medicine again. She tucked me in, and left after sternly commanding me to sincerely sleep and rest. But I could not, not by any means.

I stood up, and closed the doors. I lit my lantern and positioned it close to my bed. I had decided to draw, I did not have the strength to move around, and my mind felt tired for any further contemplation's.

I obtained my notebook and pencil from my drawer and sat cross legged on my bed.

My hands were tightly bound by the bandages, so I had to flex and stretch my right hand so as to allow enough movement for me to draw. But, suddenly a sharp pain invaded my hand; I had, assumably, ruptured some of the stitches with my stretching. The pain was tormenting, so I covered my mouth with my other hand to prevent myself from screaming. A few seconds passed, and the pain subsided, so I looked at my hand. Little clots of blood had seeped through the bandages, but I decided that I was fit to sketch, now.

And so I commenced, the wounds stung, but I chose to overlook it. My mind felt serene being occupied with something constructive.

But the feeling of being watched had returned, though I chose to overlook that as well.

The night went by peacefully, although my body was now demanding it's much required sleep.

I had finished my drawing, I felt satisfied, for it looked beautiful. Before admiring it, I went to the mirror fixed on my cupboard. It was an oval shaped, mid sized mirror. It's sides had been engraved within the door of the cupboard, the center had probably been hollowed out, to fit the mirror within the door. It was an old and exquisite cupboard, I recognized it's wood to be mahogany, and I wondered why it had been placed in such a tiny room. I looked into the mirror, and saw my frail self. I looked weak and pale, but the most pronounced feature on my face, were the dark circles under my eyes, a repercussion of two sleepless nights. I acquired my coffer, from under the bed, and took out my little tin box of white face makeup. Every girl in the corps de ballet, kept one with her, as a necessity. I dipped my finger into the paint and applied it under my eyes. My dark circles were now concealed from sight, and Mme. Giry would not come to know of my self induced insomnia. Now I turned my attention to the picture lying on my bed.

It was a picture of the Phantom, when I had seen him on the balcony. When he had been singing softly in his majestic and beatific voice, the rose with the black ribbon in his hand. The sketch had turned out flawless. Sunlight had already invaded my room, when I heard Mme. Giry's footsteps approaching. I quickly hid the notebook underneath my bed, laid down, and looked at my right hand. The bandage was now replete with dried splotches of blood. I placed my hand underneath the blanket, careful to keep it out of her strict sight.

"Did you sleep, as I had told you to, Rose?",she helped me sit up, and placed the medicine and a glass of water, on my bedside.

"Yes, Mme. Giry, I slept wonderfully and I feel like I'm recovering swiftly, you don't need to be concerned for me, now." She looked at my face, and it was quite apparent that she had believed my blatant lie.

"Meg will come back tonight, so I will let her visit you tomorrow morning. Then, you can try to get up and walk, with her. But today, you must rest again, or your fever might return."

888

The day felt like I was trapped in hell, I hadn't quite rested, and so I did not feel any better, I felt too weak to get up. So, I occupied myself with the lone book I possessed, the Lucasta Poems, by Richard Lovelace. The day flew by, reading and entertaining the few visitors that came to feed me.

Then, came another sleepless night for me to bear. The lack of sleep was now starting to affect me quite seriously. My head was throbbing and my eyelids were as heavy as cast iron.

This time Mme. Giry did not come alone, with her came my Meg.

"Oh, my goodness, Rose! You look so frail, I wanted to return as soon as I had come to know that you had been attacked, but mother assured me that she was taking good care of you, and that there wasn't any need to worry. But I could not stop thinking about you, how are you now?", Meg's concern was very genuine.

"I am recovering fast, Meg, I assure you", I proclaimed with the healthiest smile I could muster.

Before Meg could respond, Mme. Giry interrupted, "Meg, go and see where that boy is with the bed, I had told him to set it up an hour ago, what a laggard!"

Meg obediently left the room.

"Bed?", I asked, perplexed.

"Yes, I am setting up a bunk bed for Meg, on the other side of this room, she will sleep with you."

"But why?"

"So that, you actually sleep, and stop trying to make a dunce out of me."

She crossed the distance between us and wiped the makeup off, from under my eyes. Then she took my right hand, and examined the blood sodden bandages with a grimace.

888

The darkness had set in, Meg and I were in our beds, talking plainly and unreservedly, like comrades, after a long time.

"Where is Christine, Meg? I haven't seen her since, um, everything that happened."

"I met her, Rose and told her about you. She got so concerned, that she almost came running to you, but Raoul hindered her attempt", I could sense the smile in her voice.

"So she's with Raoul?", I asked, curious.

"Yes, they are hiding, Rose. Raoul is protecting her, until he can make the arrangements for their retreat, together."

"Did she tell you anything about the Phantom?"

He is a monster, Christine! He tricked her, pretended to be her fictitious Angel of Music. And when she looked at his true self, Oh Rose, she said that she had never seen a more distorted face, in her life!", she proclaimed with emotion.

"But being disfigured doesn't make a man a monster, Meg", I interjected, strongly.

"But deceiving does! And he killed a man, Rose. Are you forgetting that horrifying fact? She is scared of him Rose, but Raoul is there for her. He loves her, they both love each other, gravely."

Suddenly, a loud sound penetrated the room. It was like somebody had smashed their fist into something. My eyes flew to the cupboard.

"What was that?",Meg whispered, frightfully.

"Oh, that was the ghost of Joseph Buquet. He overheard us talking about him, and decided to pay a visit", I wisecracked.

"Rose!", Meg reproached me.

"It was just the Opera house settling, Meg, nothing to fret about.", I told her, calmly.

"Yes, you must be right. You should sleep now Rose, it's quite late. Sweet-dreams.", Meg whispered.

"Sweet-dreams", I echoed.

If she only knew how sweet my dreams really were.

How did Mme. Giry come to know? I was assured that she had been convinced by my lie, in the morning. Then how?

I looked at the cupboard, I knew that the sound had come from there.

My eyelids felt heavy, I knew I would risk sleeping if I stayed in bed. I could not even draw, with Meg in the room.

I got up, stealthily, careful not to make any sound. Meg was already asleep. I made my way to the cupboard, and opened it softly. It was dark, so I lit my lantern, for it's assistance. I shuffled through my clothes, to see what had made the noise.

Suddenly my eyes noticed a small protruding piece of wood on the backside of the cupboard's door. The cupboard was quite large, so I stepped into it, and examined that piece of wood, it looked like a latch. It was exactly where the mirror was placed, on the outer side of the door. I pulled at it.

And then what happened absolutely stupefied me. A circular wooden part of the door, attached to the latch, slid through, to reveal a see-through mirror. The mirror of my cupboard was in reality, see-through! I could see the the slight form of Meg sleeping, peacefully. I was instantly reminded of the Prima donna room, and the Phantom's secret passageway through the mirror. Was this one of his covert paths? Is that why I had felt being 'watched' all these nights? He could have been the one to tell Mme. Giry of my deceit. But there must be a way for him to enter inside the cupboard.

I turned to look and came face to face, with the Phantom.


	7. Chapter 7-Sleepless (Part-Two)

**Chapter Seven- Sleepless (Part two)**

I turned to look, and came face to face, with the Phantom.

But before I could scream, he covered my mouth with his hand and pulled my form, closer to his. My heart was beating wildly, in the heavy silence, it sounded like beating drums to my ears.

He uncovered my mouth and gestured for me to remain quiet. He bent down, and picked up the lantern. Then he grabbed me by my elbow, careful not to touch my wounds, and led me through my clothes. We were facing the inner wall of the cupboard. He pulled an identical looking latch, like the one I had seen by the mirror, and the wooden screen slid to one side. He led me past it and closed it from the outside. We were in a tunnel, now. So he really had been watching over me. He started leading me inside the dimly lit tunnel, his hand still holding my arm, softly, but firmly.

I stopped in my tracks.

"Why did you watch over me?", I pronounced, as valiantly as I could.

He turned to glare at me, then pulled me forward again.

We started walking again, my legs felt as weak as wicker, where was he taking me? We kept walking, and I did not have the strength to protest. But I still felt agitated that he had used the secret mirror to look over me. Why could have possibly made him do that? He had saved my life once, now there was no reason for him to show such concern for me.

"If you think that since I saved you, you owe me your concern, then you are erring. You don't owe me anything.", I said, without stopping.

I didn't have to see his face to know that he was glowering at my words. He kept us going, and didn't utter even a single word. I kept fidgeting in his silence, the urge to know the true reason behind his actions was now growing, inexplicably.

"Why do you not sleep?", he asked, after some minutes. I could sense the anger in his voice.

We had traveled quite a bit far inside the tunnel, now, it did not seem to possess any ending. My legs were weak, and my head was throbbing with lack of slumber. I felt agitated and impatient due to my condition.

"You do not owe me anything!", I had meant the words to be imposing, but instead they came out in a flimsy manner.

He let go of my arm and turned to face me.

"I am very well aware of the fact that I do not owe you anything. And why would I? You didn't save me, Rose, but you murdered my one chance of freedom from this hideous life and world! I should kill you, for being such a savior, a savior who condemned me back into a never ending purgatory!", his voice was full of venom.

His words left me tight lipped.

I drew away from him and until I had backed into the wall of the tunnel. My legs, frail with the sudden excursion they had had to endure, collapsed, and I slid down into a sitting position.

"Then why did you save me?", I whispered, looking directly at his enigmatic form, in the scanty light, provided by the lantern in his grasp. My irritability had vanished.

His eyes flickered with some unknown emotion, and then his face turned cold and calm. He came up to me, and sat down beside me, backed up against the wall, just like I was.

"Why do you not sleep?", he asked, huskily.

I knew that he would not answer any of my questions, so I resolved to answer his.

"It's my mind. It's a scary place to be in. I am afraid, that it will take over my soul in my sleep, and rot it.", I answered, truthfully.

I looked at him, he was staring at me intensely, as if trying to scrutinize my persona.

He didn't speak after that. I was still thinking about what he had said to me before, about killing his one chance of freedom from his hideous life. I felt terrible for him. It was bizarre, because he was essentially a stranger, but was he really? I could see through him, at moments, in a way that I had never been able to, with anybody else.

"I am sorry about Christine.", I whispered looking at him.

His face distorted with pain and disgust, and he was about to get up, but I grasped his arm, tightly, preventing him from moving away.

I flinched with the effort, and he noticed that it was my right hand. His expression softened, and he sat down again, reluctantly.

I turned my face away from him and closed my heavy lidded eyes. I was very close to sleep; I couldn't resist it anymore.

"May I know your name?", I asked him.

"Erik", he answered, after a few moments of silence.

Such a beautiful name. For me, it resonated with purity and valor. I could empathize with him, I knew exactly how the torment inside him, treated him. I wanted his pain to go away, I wanted to make it go away, but I didn't know how to.

"I understand, Erik. I understand what it feels like, to not be loved."

He was absolutely silent, so I glanced at him, with half open eyes. His expression was one of ...incredulity? Yes, he was looking at me incredulously, and the pain was quite evident in his beautiful eyes.

My eyes closed.

"You must sleep now, Rose", his voice sounded controlled.

"No, I can't sleep, I can't..", but my head drooped to the side, inspite of my feeble protests.

And then, I felt an arm around me. Erik had gently pulled me to his chest, and I gladly accepted the abode. I rested my head on his chest, and he held me, humming softly. I felt safe, now. Warmth blossomed inside of me and I gladly welcomed the sleep I had evaded for so long. He was the night, but such a beautiful night it was. If he was the darkness, then he was the darkness that comforted and provided shelter from the harsh reality of the light. I pulled myself closer to him, and he sweetly tightened his hold on me.

I fell asleep in Erik's arms.


	8. Chapter 8-Changed

**Chapter-8-Changed**

My eyes slowly drifted open, I was still warm in Erik's embrace. He had sheathed me with his black cape, to ward off the cold. My hand was clutching his white shirt, and he had soundly cradled me in his grip. I had not felt this...pleasant and safe, in ages.

I unclasped my hand, and drew my head away from his chest, languidly, and looked at him. His expression resembled one of an angel's, so placid and yet pained, the slightest hint of a smile adorning his enticing half-masked face. I could not bear to tear my glance away from him.

He softly turned his eyes towards me, and I blushed, fiercely. I turned my head down, so that he wouldn't witness the embarrassing sight of my cheeks.

"You have only slept for an hour, I think you ought to go back. You need rest, and if your _friend_ wakes up, well, I severely doubt how well your deceit would work with her or Mme. Giry, for any longer."

He helped me get up, and then my eyes, which seemed to maintain a life of their own around him, turned to him.

His expression was now restored to his former one, formidable and mysterious, but a whisper of peace and pleasant emotion still pervaded his eyes.

We walked in silence. Tepid blood had rushed to my cheeks, like never before. What was the meaning of this? He walked closely beside me, his black gloved hand gently resided on my waist.

We had started with a feud upon entering the tunnel, yet now it was clear that it had been merely a mask hiding the unexplained bond that we possessed. We hardly knew each other, yet I felt that I understood him in ways that I could not even deduce my own being. But what about him? Did he feel the same manacles around his heart for me, as I did for him? I did not know if it could be called love, or understanding, or infatuation. I just knew that it was, and in the present, that alone satisfied me.

We had reached the end of the tunnel, to the covert door of my cupboard. I was still looking downwards, resolved to eclipse my crimson face away from his sight. I took off his cape from my shoulders and handed it to him. Our hands touched as he reached for it, and I foolishly glanced at him.

A tiny crooked smile shadowed across his face. He seemed fascinated and amused by the plight of my face. Then, a deliberate solemness enveloped him, and he spoke gravely.

"I do not now, whether or not I owe you anything. But you asked me for the reason behind my actions, and I would have given it you, if I had known myself. Yes, Rose, I do not know. Yet." His eyes were gentle and fierce, at the same time.

"Promise me you will sleep. I'm sure that your soul stands stronger than whatever it is that plagues it. And if it grants you any assurance, I believe it does."

I finally gathered the courage to look at him, properly.

"Erik", I whispered, "You must rest your heart, too."

His hand gently touched my face, his fingers breezily trailing along the upper part of my cheek, to my jawline, as if tracing the nefarious scarlet on them.

He slid open the door, and I entered my cupboard, facing him, one last time, before he closed it. He appeared..._changed_. At last, the door was shut by him, and I saw the saccharine sleeping figure of Meg through the estoric see-through glass. I latched the mirror back into hiding, and furtively crossed the distance to my bed.

I laid down gently, covered myself with the cold sheets, and closed my eyes.

Sleep had never come so beautifully to me.


	9. Chapter 9-Dark Lights

**Chapter-9- Dark Lights**

**1850**

Upon sundown, spirits awaken and dance with the wind. You must close your eyes, your limited physical perception, and see with your soul to companionate with them. The stars torch the darkness in a blazing symphony, and the inspiriting trees become your kith and kin. The ancient trees offer you abode upon their otherworldly branches, which in reality are portals to many fascinating and unknown terrains. The young ones whisper the dark songs of the ages, in an attempt to toy with your mind. Some stars voyage down into the woods, build swings with their kaleidoscopic lights, and offer them for play to the children of the night.

It was on such a bewitched night that a little girl of four found her way into the shadowy, dark woods. Nothing even remotely tried to harm her pristine, delicate form. The white wolves chanced upon her path, and walked away as if she were a butterfly flying through the forest. One wolf even nuzzled his snout in her dark, nightly hair, affectionately.

The night had been cold, but upon her arrival, the air turned warm and thick with power, as though sheathing the girl from the wintry skies.

The girl's green eyes were a beautiful colour. It was a hue that resembled the colour of foliage, when first touched by the sun's rays, at daybreak. Her thick eyelashes concealed her eyes, in and out of sight. She had lips the colour of red berries, and her skin, while pale, had a fine honey tint to it. She was clad in a thin, white frock. She was barefoot, but the forest treated her with care.

On a patch of ground near an old ash tree, a bunch of moon-flowers had bloomed, flaunting their beauty to the night-world. The girl glanced upon this magical posy, and jumped with delight. She bent down, and observed that a lone flower between this bunch had not bloomed.

She closed her eyes and touched the flower, softly. A few seconds fared and nothing ensued. Then, slowly, the flower began to bloom. The girl opened her eyes, withdrew her hand, and watched as the flower bloomed completely, now standing out with an effervescence that was much more compelling than its neighbor's.

A minty wind blew and the leaves lifted, and commenced to hush and whisper in a haunting harmony. The girl looked up and reached out her babyish hands towards the tree that stood in-front of her. A long branch on the lower strands returned her gesture, reaching out towards her like a great emaciated hand.

Then something shifted her attention. She glanced around in wonder, as a number of tiny, colourful lights wove themselves around in the air. She clapped her hands and laughed in rapture. The music of the trees, and the dance of the wisps made the girl feel at home, at peace.

888

Sophia felt scared. Her master had sent her in the woods to look for his little daughter. She feared for her life, and more so for Rose. She was such an impish child, always wandering about, getting lost. But this time, she had done the inexplicable, had run off into the woods, in the middle of such a dreary night. The air was deathly cold, Sophia wrapped around her shawl against her frame, tightly.

She had ventured deep into the forest, and it would have been unthinkable to see clearly about herself, had there not been a full moon adorning the sky. Still, bearing the cold itself was a herculean task.

She heard some strange sound permeating the path ahead. She ran ahead, and bumped into little Rose.

"Oh, Rose! You naughty child! What did you mean by running off here, at this time?"

She observed the girl's scanty clothing and felt alarmed. She picked up the child, clasped her tightly to her chest, and covered her with the woolen shawl. To her surprise, Rose wasn't cold at all, in fact, she was warm, as if she'd been in a sunny field in the spring, and not in the desolate forest on a wintry bleak night.

It was then that Sophie glanced around herself, and what she saw made her draw her breath in fear. The mesmerizing, magical sight of the forest that Rose had conjured up, to Sophie looked like demonic sorcery. Flashes of light moved through the trees, and her eyes were blinded with the light and darkness, simultaneously. The air was thick with a strange power, and the leaves were moving with a rhythm, constructing a hymn that chilled her core.

She turned away and started to run with a stark pace, Rose still bundled up in her shawl.

She tripped and fell many times, branches and shrubs tangling in her shawl, as if trying to close in on her and the crying child in her arms. Rose had started to weep as soon as Sophie had taken her away from her spot in the woods.

When Sophie finally reached the threshold of the cursed forest, she put down Rose in an attempt to stop her sobbing.

"Rose, what sorcery was that?", Sophie asked, drying the girl's tears with her shawl.

"Oh, you wee demon, stop crying! If your father had seen that, he would have murdered you as he does rabbits on his daily hunts! He already loathes you enough for being in your gypsy mother's image!"

Sophie had always known that there was something strange about Little Rose, and her fears had now been confirmed. But the beauty and innocence that Rose possessed, made it an almost impossible task for anyone to really hate the child, she wondered how the girl's father managed to do it.

A lone tear escaped from the periphery of Rose's eye, and dropped on the ground. As soon as it touched the soil, the tear transformed into a small patch of snow, and sheathed the ground with it. Sophie witnessed this, and realized that she had never felt more petrified of a little child. Yet it was a miracle how affection could live with fear, in the same heart. She knew she loved the girl, and that she had to protect her.

Sophie kissed little Rose's cheek, picked her up, and began her way back to home.

888

**I hadn't originally meant to give Rose a supernatural past, but the idea crossed my mind, and seemed appealing. Do tell me what you think about it! :)**


	10. Chapter 10-Specters

**Chapter 10-Specters**

After a long awaited time, I was finally drowning in the sweet sea of slumber.

I kept waking up, for brief intervals of time, but the weight of tiredness on my eyes was much too heavy to resist.

I slept through the night, my mind fortunately devoid of any dreams, and then through the following day as well, except when Madame Giry came to hand me my medicine and food.

The night approached, and still my sleep hadn't deserted me.

But they say that the darkness is a sanctuary for reveries and nightmares, alike, and the one's nearer to you come to take refuge within your mind, at night.

_I was back in the cellar._ I couldn't breathe. Black terror erupted within my heart, and spread through my veins to the rest of my body.

I was lying on the floor, face down. The sudden eruption of dust from the chimney, lacking the assistance of any probable human factors, had made me scream and try to run to the other side of the room. Instead I tripped and fell quite close to the chimney, itself. I felt helpless, exposed. Emily's story was not just a made-up tale, there was something very evil in here, I could sense it.

_I did not want to look up. But I had to._

His eyes were open.

From a noose attached to the ceiling, he was hanging. His body swayed from side to side, hanging limply, a trickle of blood seeping through his mouth.

It was the kind of fear, that paralyses your senses, kills your voice, kills any means through which you could express your terror. It was painful.

And then, his lifeless eyes turned to me.

My body seemed to move of it's own free will. It struggled to crawl to the other side of the room, away from his sinister gaze.

I backed up against the wall, pulled my knees to my chest, and buried my face between them.

_Please, someone. Please come and get me. Please._

And then, a horrifying noise emerged from the corner of the room. It was like the noise that father's gramophone made, when the record stuck, and kept repeating until somebody changed it.

I slowly lifted my head up from my self-embrace.

Now, there was nobody in-front of me. No dead body hanging from the ceiling.

My eyes slowly made their way to the corner of the room, from where the malignant sound was coming.

He was there, his back against me. The clothes that he wore, were like the ones I saw people wearing in old paintings from the turn of the century.

_The sound kept emanating from where he stood._

Then, it stopped.

The silence and apprehension were more torturous to bear than the broken sound that had previously been ringing through the cellar.

_You can see him, my mind whispered to me. You can see a dead person. A ghost._

And then I heard another sound, slicing through the deafening silence.

It was a whisper. Under normal circumstances, the sound would have been improbable to catch, but the sheer ferocity of fear and quietness in the air, made it elementary to decipher the sinister words.

"Are..."

"You"

"My"

"Daughter?"

My heart turned cold.

"Are you my daughter? Are you my daughter? Are you my daughter? Are you my daughter? Are you my daughter? Are you my daughter? Are you my daughter? Are you my daughter?"

The whispered words of the specter were like a demonic chant. My eyes blurred from the tears that invaded them.

I soundlessly cried and prayed to God for forgiveness.

His chant went on for some terrifyingly long minutes.

Then silence invaded the air, it was as sharp as a knife piercing through my being.

I felt aware of every part of my body.

He had started turning towards me, so I hid my face in my against my knees, again.

It was quiet once again, I hoped that whatever and whoever that man was, had gone away.

I willed to lift my head once again, my mind screamed against the action, but it was inevitable.

I lifted my head and saw his face, inches from mine.

* * *

"Rose, Rose!"

Awakening from the dream was painful. Just like stark terror, stark relief and change of circumstance, given so suddenly, can be strenuous and painful to experience.

Meg was leaning towards me, holding my hands.

"You were crying and screaming in your sleep, Rose", she said, gently.

I lifted my bandaged hands to my cheeks. They came away wet.

"It's a good thing that mother told me to sleep with you. You were having a nightmare, I assume. What did you see, Rose?"

"I don't remember, Meg", I lied.

I looked at her worried form.

"Meg, it was just a dream. I am still in need of some more sleep. I will be fine, you can sleep, too." I was exhausting the last supplies of my self reserve.

Meg slowly went to her bed, and I laid down as well, to enact my deceit.

After she had quietly rested in her slumber, I stole out of the room, as fast as I could.


	11. Chapter 11- Dawn

**Chapter-11 Dawn**

Serendipity. That is the word that comes into my mind when I think of her.

She was so strange, like a strange bird that chances upon the path of your eyes, on a rare nightfall. The bird looks at you with an eerie gaze, making you wonder about what it has seen, the ghastly and surreal places it's beatific form has visited. Then, it flies away, without even an insipid warning, leaving you with an ache, that you would never be able to share it's forbidden knowledge.

Rose was like that bird, she was full of forbidden things, I could witness it in her haunting eyes.

But I would not let this bird fly away, for this one was momentous.

What did I feel for her? I did not know and I could not understand. My feelings for her were perplexing, but significant.

I had always been searching. Searching for a soul, who would understand me, love me, for the man I was inside. Someone who would look past my exterior and its monstrosity.

I had dearly hoped Christine would be the one. She was pure and I had wanted her purity. But purity shuns everything impure, does it not? She did not want me. The fact still tormented me. I loved her, and she had murdered my one chance at salvation.

And through all the agony, Rose came. It was like I had looked up to the sky, in my torment, expecting clouds of doom, but instead, I had gazed upon this beautiful and eerie star, Rose. She gave me hope, hope that was completely unexpected.

But she was a falling star. There was so much pain, that she hid inside herself.

When she had said to me, half sunk in her slumber, that she understood what it was like to not be loved, I had felt healed. I had felt peace for the first time. It was as if she had looked into my soul, and she had not felt pity, but she simply understood.

And when I had looked at her in her sleep, a burning emotion had invaded my being. It was filled with a fascination for her, and an urge to protect her, as well.

She was not frail. Her soul's strength and ferocity shone through her eyes, it was nothing like Christine's porcelain and pure one. But something was haunting her dreams, her uncommon soul. I wanted to put an end to it.

I was watching over her again. She had finally embraced her sleep, but whatever she had been terrified of, had come back to haunt her. She was twisting in her sleep, her face distorted with torment and fear. I would have run to her aid, but I was bound by my identity. To my agitation, Mme. Giry's daughter slept like a log, it wasn't until Rose's torment had become quite vocal, that she woke up to her help.

Rose was an excellent liar for she masked her predicament quite well. Meg was assured by her blatant lies and was soon put to sleep by them.

Then, Rose quietly stole out of the room. Alarm rang through my mind. Surely she wouldn't commit something foolhardy, would she? I had to find her. My intuition told me to look in the balcony, and since it had never seemed be at fault in the case of Rose, so I obeyed it.

I had no time to lose. I opened the cupboard, and stole out of the room, just as Rose had. Meg was lost too deep in her slumber to notice.

I took the dilapidated staircase to the balcony. I stealthily made my way up to the top, and came across her form.

She was sitting hunched up, her head resting between her knees. I watched from the shadows as she looked up to the sky. Her face was covered with tears and my heart surprisingly stung at the sight. And then, something incredible happened. The sky had been absolutely rainless, but now, clouds appeared out of nowhere and thunder screamed aloud, exclaiming the arrival of a storm. The phenomenon seemed to upset her to an even greater extent. Rain drops had started to fall. I had to get Rose out of the sky's reach, or she would catch an illness in her current position.

I walked up to her, quietly, and when she glanced in my direction, she drew back with fear. After realizing that it was me, she calmed herself, and childishly tried to wipe away her tears.

"Erik", she softly acknowledged me.

I extended my hand towards her, and she took it.

I walked her back to the edge of the inner wall, safe from the storm, but not it's sight.

She gazed at it fervently, as if the storm had declared her doom.

She spoke without looking at me.

"Erik, do you believe in the Devil?"

The question caught me off guard.

"If God exists, then so does he", I answered.

Her smile was mysterious, yet broken.

"And what is your most wished for season?"

She was trying to distract herself, that was quite evident.

"I like the spring.", I answered her.

"Why?"

"It signifies transformation."

"Alas", she whispered.

"You know what I prefer? I love the winters. Such a wonderful season, cold and peaceful. Devoid of any transformation. It stops everything. Like a small immortality."

The words that came out her seemed to echo out her strange, forbidden mind. She was nothing like the plain minded people that the world, unfortunately, was abundant of.

"So you like immortality?",I asked her.

"Yes. Death is an immortality too, Erik. Such a peaceful immortality."

Upon hearing these words, anxiety pervaded me.

I grabbed her elbow and spun her towards me.

"I don't know what you're thinking, and what nightmares ail you. But death is no answer for it", my words were spiteful.

Upon looking at me, her face changed, as if realizing my presence for the first time. She seemed..infatuated? A blush outlined her cheeks. But her words contrasted with her appearance.

"Why? It would be easy to attain that immortality, would it not? Away from all torment. Beautiful oblivion."

I grabbed her face with my hand in an anger that had possessed me within moments.

"Do not talk foolishly, girl!"

She looked at me, and softly touched my hand that was holding her face.

A warmth breached into my soul, her touch seemed to possess me.

I withdrew my hand, and she looked down.

"If it were not for this storm, it would have already been dawn. Meet me here, tomorrow, in the evening. And don't worry about Mme. Giry's daughter, I shall take care of that.", I told her.

Warmth embraced her face, I wondered if she really was infatuated by me.

She turned to leave.

Then turning back, she whispered, " And Erik, it's already dawn."

I looked at the sky, and was astounded. The sky had been absolutely dark and clouded, awaiting for a storm to take over it. But now, not even a single cloud remained. The sky had cleared up within moments, and the first rays of the sun had already commenced to occupy the earth.

I turned to look at her, but she had left.


	12. Chapter 12-Unmasked

_**I could not love except where Death was mingling his with Beauty's breath.**_

**_-Edgar Allan Poe_**

**Chapter-12-Unmasked**

They were returning. Those ghastly talents which I possessed, they were coming back to haunt me.

The way the sky had reflected my emotions, as it had done in the past, had been a dreaded confirmation for me. I had spent so much time deadening my emotions, learning apathy and indifference, and now it had all cracked away. I had wanted to die.

But then Erik had arrived. His presence had always brought a beautiful warmth to me, but at that moment, my macabre destiny was stabbing me in my heart.

But he had seemed so concerned for me. When I had proposed death, I had expected him to help me with it. But instead, he became afraid. Yes, afraid. For his anger was nothing but another mask for his fear. He had feared for my life? No person had ever cared about me in the past. Ever.

And then it struck me. It wasn't just infatuation that I held for him. And it was something deeper than merely fascination for him. I was terribly attracted to him and there was an urge within me. An urge to know his within. To comfort him, to be at an intimate distance. I desired to be within the security of his arms, again. He gave me a feeling that I had longed to nurture, all my life. But fate had only given me reasons to hate, and not love. Was that the reason behind my inability to understand my emotions towards him?

He had asked me to meet him in the evening in the balcony, but for what reason? Did he wish to acquaint himself with me? Or talk me out of my supposed delusions? But I could not help but be thrilled by the fact that I would have his company. He was the only light in my soul in this ghastly time, and such a beautiful light it was. My feelings for him would make me blush scarlet like a young naive girl, would trap my mind with his alluring being, and also give me a warmth that would cradle my entire consciousness.

The day was long for me. Mme. Giry had finally decided that it was fit for me to try and roam around the Opera, though not dance. I helped with some of the art work required in the making of the setup, but Mme. Giry took care that I did nothing strenuous. My fellow dancers were replete with wishes and prayers for my broken form, and alas, a plethora of questions too. How did I manage to evade the ruffians? Why had I decided to stroll in the dark? How abominable were my wounds? Thankfully, Mme. Giry had offered me some satin gloves to conceal my bandaged hands, or that alone would have earned me a flood of horrified exclamations. But I could not keep my form to be still for my thoughts were constantly engrossed with Erik.

A tumult was gathering in my stomach. What would happen?

Finally, the evening approached.

I went to my room and looked at my insipid form. Though frail, my face had a glow to it, an unexpected effervescence. My hands were trembling. A yearning seemed to fill me. I could wait no longer.

Slowly, I approached the staircase and reached the balcony. But Erik was nowhere to be seen.

The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of violet and tangerine. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. The air was whirling around me softly, caressing my bare skin. The sensation seemed to calm me.

Then, I felt a presence behind me. Erik had arrived. I slowly turned and faced his masked face.

"Rose", he acknowledged me.

"Erik."

He held out his hand, and I took it. His face was emotionless, restrained. I wondered whether my face gave away my internal thoughts for him.

He led me towards the inside edge of the balcony, towards a door that was excellently hidden away from the normal view. It was almost camouflaged with the wall and tiny knob protruded out of it.

He opened the door and led me through it. It revealed a dimly lit passage with some dingy stairs. We descended down it, and reached a similar tunnel that I had previously seen behind my cupboard.

We walked silently, with him leading me. He would turn to look at me at moments, and I would blush, much to my vexation.

And then, surprise filled me, as we reached a lake. It was breathtakingly beautiful, the turquoise water amidst the ruin-like structure of the place. A black boat was floating in the waters. Erik stepped inside it and helped me to do the same. The boat was small, yet beautiful. It was old, but intricately carved. It was like a craft of death.

Faint yellow lights pervaded the air, but I could not place the source. The surroundings were eerily beautiful.

I glanced at Erik, he was quietly paddling the craft. The strange yearning filled me yet again and I unconsciously clenched my fists. I wanted to touch him.

After a while, he turned back. Ashamed, I looked down.

"We're here", he proclaimed, in his elemental voice.

I had been so engrossed with looking at him that I had lost the awareness of my surroundings.

I held my eyes up, and I lost my breath.

Erik's abode was inexplicably beautiful. Alluring and antique lanterns and candelabras were situated around the place in an intelligent manner; the haunting light seemed to echo from within the walls and corners itself.

An old and charming piano was placed within the center of his abode. Old curtains and draperies adorned the walls. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before. This man was a beautiful genius.

He stood up and tied the boat to safety. Then, he reached out his hand and helped me out of the craft.

The carnival like beauty of his lair made me smile like an impish child. He looked at my expression with curiosity, and I restrained my grin.

"It's so wonderful, Erik. You are ..."

I couldn't find the proper word for him. But his face was still restrained, his expression dispassionate.

"You are here because I want you to answer some questions for me", he said, in a solemn voice.

"What questions?", I asked, perplexed.

"What is your heritage?" he asked.

"I was born in England, but my parents met their demise when I was quite too young. I am devoid of a proper heritage."

"Who raised you, then?"

"A distant relative." I was trying to keep my face solemn, but the task was difficult.

"And you have no friends to call your own?"

"I have this Opera. I don't understand.." but he interrupted me within my sentence.

"What plagues you, Rose?"

I could now see the thread of emotion seeping through his eyes.

"That is none of your concern."

"What plagues you Rose?"

This time, I could sense the urgency and agitation in his voice.

"I assure you, that is none of your concern", I emphasized.

He turned away from me.

"What plagues you, Rose?"

Anger had completely drenched his voice.

Fury seemed to invade me too.

"You really want to know? I see ghosts, Erik! I see the ghosts of my past! Ghouls and darkness and fear plagues me. Damnation plagues me!"

"But can you tell me what plagues you, Erik?", I said, defiantly.

I strode towards him and turned his form towards myself.

"Can you tell me?" I was challenging him.

He grabbed my shoulders. His face was distorted in pain and anguish.

"Oh, you want to know what troubles me, you foolish girl? Can you bear to listen to it? I am not afraid of ghouls or darkness. You know what I fear? I fear a loveless existence! I fear that hatred will take over my soul and eat away the man I am. Soon my soul will echo my distorted face, and no one will be able to help me! You fear damnation, Rose? Well, I am already damned!"

My anger faded away and pure anguish engulfed me. My eyes blurred with tears.

"Erik.." I softly whispered.

"You must go now."

He was about to turn away from me but I grabbed his shirt and pulled him towards me. The torment was still visible on his face.

I reached out my hand towards his mask. He recoiled, but I held on to him with whatever force I possessed.

"Be still, Erik."

I covered his eyes with my right hand. Then, slowly I proceeded my other hand towards his mask to take it off.

I could almost feel the pain and dejection flowing from his heart.

But it had to be done.

I slowly took his mask off, and realized that he wore a wig. That came off too, and now there were no masks now, just plain and unashamed truth.

His skin behind the mask was deformed. It stood out with pink and red subtle blisters, outlining his right eye and the upper part of his forehead as well. His real hair was blonde.

I did not feel any disgust or any fear upon beholding his face. Instead, I felt sorry. Not for him, no. But for the world. The world had shunned such a beautiful soul upon their superficial mindsets. For him, I felt rage. I was angry and anguished that he had been treated so, until now. I loved him. Yes, I could not deny it any further. I held a connection with him that superseded the common life we beheld. I wanted to take his pain away. I wanted to love him.

My hands were still covering his eyes, and the torment never left his face.

I slowly reached out my hand and softly caressed his scarred face. I traced the outline of his jawline and saw his expression change. Warmth was invading him as sweetly as it was invading me. I traced his pink lips with my fingers. I heard his soft gasp.

I uncovered his eyes.

As he looked into my eyes, I saw neither torment nor anguish, but pure astonishment and emotion.

"Erik, you are beautiful."

I placed my hand over his heart.

And I embraced him.

He did not respond or return the gesture at first, but then I felt his arms around me, clutching me tightly.

It was as if he was holding on to me for his dear life.

I felt a soft kiss on the top of my head, and I looked up.

There was gratitude in his eyes. But did he feel for me the same way I did for him? The question gnawed at my insides.

"I don't understand you, Rose."

"You don't have to. Erik, I...

I could not form the words to say. I took a deep breath and tried again.

"You do not deserve this, Erik, you don't. I cannot replace Christine, I understand, but I would, at least, like to be your friend. Would you take me as your friend?"

He released me from his arms and I realized that I had virtually confessed my feelings for him. Bitter scarlet tainted my body.

"As unearthly as you are, Rose, you're very daft too. Such a foolish little girl", he said, stroking my cheek.

"If a friend is what you would call yourself, Rose, then be it. Let me show my friend, a glimpse of my world.", he said, placing his mask back on to his face.


	13. Chapter 13-Enchanted

_**"Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!"**_

_**― Bram Stoker**_

**Chapter- 13- Enchanted**

He took my hand. There was a kind of...revelation shining in his eyes. His eyes were exultant. I was happy to see him that way, away from a while from all the despair dwelling in his heart.

He started to lead me towards the boat, but like a child, I could not turn my eyes away from his lair. It was as if he had created a small bewitching carnival in this place.

He turned to look at me and let go of my hand. He seemed gratified and amused by my fascination with his lair.

I took the opportunity at once, smiling like a jaunty child. The objects placed around were unbelievable. Antique and beautiful, they must have had a worth that out-placed mere money. One candelabra caught my eye, its hands were made of gold, and it had been carved like fire. It looked as if fire had been molded into the very object. It was seething with beauty.

Another one stole my attention. On one of the arms of the candelabra was carved a woman, on the other a man. The center stand carving depicted the woman with wings, holding the man's hand and leading him towards the flame that burned-ephemeral yet eternal. It was genius.

I walked around more and noticed Erik's bed. My mouth lifted up with amazement. It was a swan-bed! I went up to it and ran my hand over the large wings of the silver-copper swan. Old and beautiful red drapery worked as the bedding. I heard my own laughter, struck with marvel.

"Oh Erik, this is.." I turned and found him standing in-front of me. The distance was painfully thin. He was looking at me with subtle hilarity and pleasure. The urge to touch him tortured me within.

"As much you like my humble abode, I have other things to show you. You are welcome here anytime, to stay and see."

I took his extended hand and let him lead me to the boat. I took one last look at his lair before the craft commenced to move in the aquamarine waters.

888

It was quite marvelous how the Opera house had secret entries and passageways that not even the managers were wholly aware of. They were lying in plain sight and yet were concealed so intelligently that it was imperceivable for anyone to unearth them.

We had now ascended enough flights of secret stairs for me to assume that he was taking us someplace higher up than the balcony.

Finally, we reached a door. He opened it and led me into the room. It was a small room, absolutely empty, devoid of any windows. It was partially drenched with darkness.

"Come", he said, as he oddly took me near the front wall of the room.

"Stay still for a minute, Rose."

I was just five inches away from the wall. He placed himself behind me. He was quite close.

"Close your eyes", he whispered, as he surprisingly tied something around my eyes, concealing the sight from view. What could he possibly have to show me in this small and empty room?

I felt him move away from me, and moments later, I started hearing shuffling and sliding noises. Curiosity had ripened within me. Then, the noise ceased and I felt his presence behind me again.

He gently wrapped his hand around my waist and there was little distance between us now. The sensation of being at such an intimate distance from him, and the curiosity about what he was going to show me, made me draw up my breath in anticipation.

"Do not open your eyes until I tell you so", he said, in his beautiful husky voice.

He untied the cloth from my eyes.

"Now", he whispered in my ear, his breath sweetly tickling my neck.

I slowly opened my eyes.

Fear rushed through me for a split moment and I stumbled backwards. But Erik tightly held on to me.

And then there was just pure awe. What I was seeing was sheer heaven. The part of the wall that I had earlier been beholding, had now completely vanished. In its place was glass so thin, that it was not even visible. It was as if we were suspended among the stars. The night sky shone in all it's marvel and we were a part of it.

It was a large window, shaped like a humongous curved closet door. But the thinness of the glass and surrounding frames, and the astonishingly clear view of the sky had made it thoroughly magical. I knew that he could feel my awed smile; I did not have to tell him how beautiful it was.

He was still behind me with his hand on my waist and I was savoring the moment as much as I possibly could. Although my heart felt that he loved me too, the sheer beauty and joy of the idea was too much for me to completely accept. It could not really be true. He loved Christine, did he not? How could he have that place in his heart for me?

He released me from his grasp.

"Close your eyes again, Rose."

I did as I was told.

I felt his hands brush along my neck and I shivered at his touch.

When he was done, I lifted my eyelids up and looked down.

"Erik, this is.." I could not find a proper word for it.

It was a necklace. An absolutely beautiful tiny specimen of a rose, carved in platinum. It was as if he had stole a part of the silver stars and created the pendant from it. The carving was unbelievably intricate for its size. It hung to my neck by a thin gold chain.

I turned to face him.

"Erik, this is so beautiful, but I cannot accept this.."

"I made it for you, and you will have it. You can chose to wear it, or keep it, but it stays with you."

It was a command.

"It is late now, Rose. Your eyes are tired. Let me take you to your room."

"No, Erik. I want to stay some more, please. With you." I softly glanced at the beautiful night sky and then looked at him.

The traitorous scarlet had invaded my cheeks again.

He slowly walked up to me. My heart was thudding vehemently now.

He crossed the distance between us and whispered huskily, in my ear.

"Rose, I cannot tell you how grateful I am to have you. You are more than a friend, you are like a companion to me now. And although, you refrain from telling me about what haunts your soul, I will find out. I shall save you the way you did me."

He stepped away from me. His eyes were playfully brooding.

"Now let me lead you back. Or I shall have to add stubbornness too, to your list of vices, my strange foolish girl."


	14. Chapter 14-Eternal

_**"**__**I felt myself on the edge of the world; peering over the rim into a fathomless chaos of eternal night." **_  
_**― **__**H.P. Lovecraft**_

**Chapter-14- Eternal**

I couldn't sleep.

Fear was not the reason this time. Instead, I found myself shifting and shuffling under the warm sheets and I owed these restless attributes to the time spent with Erik.

Warmth and the impish excitement that accompanies love had transfused within my heart and I was unable to drive it away, in-spite of the fact that my mind was subtly wary of it.

His presence was beautiful; it ignited within me emotions that made me feel human and heavenly at the same time. It had felt unbelievably good to steal away his pain, make him realize what he really was. He was a genius; he held things within himself that could only be compared to the hidden treasures of a beautiful and forbidden carnival. And most of all, he was beautiful. He held tragedy within himself but still put on a mask of triumph.

A lone tear escaped my eye.

I would turn that pretension of triumph into a reality. Even as a friend, I would give him all I had. But my heart screamed for reciprocation too. I wanted him to love me. But how could he? I was not pure like Christine. I was...tainted. But, I told myself, love was not true love if it was dependent upon reciprocation. I was content with his friendship. But still, the hope that he would see me as I saw him, refused to leave me.

I clutched the rose pendant under my dress and smiled like a little girl. I would always wear it. It was of boundless value to me.

Erik, I love you. The presence of love within me was so fulfilling and gratifying that I realized that I had not felt happiness like this before, throughout my entire life. It was true then, the pleasure that succeeds pain is much more sweeter for we truly realize its value.

I closed my eyes. Sleep cradled me in its arms like an old friend.

888

It felt good to be in the hustle and bustle of the Opera house again. I was officially back as a part of the Corps de Ballet, though I still wore Mme. Giry's satin gloves. Everybody had been really welcoming, the dancers, Meg, Mme. Giry, and surprisingly, the managers as well. My apparent accident with the ruffians had been a good story for everyone to entertain themselves with, for the Phantom had been quiet ever since Joseph Buquet's death.

Christine and Raoul had apparently fled, nobody knew anything of their whereabouts, not even Meg. And although nobody mentioned them, it was quite clear that they wondered about the chaos that had ensued upon Christine's discovery and Raoul's arrival.

The Opera called The Magic Flute was going to be performed, and the rehearsals, preparations and auditions were in full throttle. Sadly, after Christine's dissapearance, La Carlotta had returned and had already taken her place in the Opera as the Queen of the Night.

Suddenly, the managers arrived upon the stage with an air of importance, as if they were going to announce some matter of dreary significance.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are here to steal just a little fleeting moment of yours to announce something of importance," Monsieur Firmin proclaimed.

Everyone left what they were engaged in and turned their attention to the managers.

"We want you to welcome our new Patron, Monsieur Augustine Montgomery."

A young man walked out onto the stage. He was about twenty-five years of age and had a lean but masculine form. His hair were a natural brown, and he possessed the most uncanny phoenix-like grey eyes. He was undoubtedly handsome.

My fellow dancers started whispering with excitement, happy by the latest addition to the Opera house. It was a nice change from the recent morbid happenings that had viciously attacked the usually cheerful Opera house and everyone greeted it with open arms.

La Carlotta put on a quite flirtatious front as the managers introduced her to the new Patron.

I watched from the side wings as the managers showed him around. He seemed inquisitive and good-humored. He was cordial; greeted everyone with an attractive crooked smile.

At last, he accompanied the managers to their office and everybody resumed with their respective works.

The backdrops required for the the current Opera were to be exquisite, grand and detailed, at the very same time. The whole stage was to be enveloped in shades of dreary and beautiful blue. The work was occupying and enjoyable at the same time.

After a while, I required some veneer for the backdrop and I got up to make my way to one of the inside rooms of the Opera house.

I passed the manager's office on the way. I could hear the managers talking in hushed tones and I assumed that our new Patron had left after the warm welcome that he had been presented with.

I was on my way when a hand shot of the corner and pulled me towards the wall. I came vis-à-vis Monsieur Montgomery. He gestured me to remain quiet and looked about for any intruders. When he found none, he spoke in a deep and attractive voice.

"I apologize for the ruckus, I hope I didn't scare you," He waited for my reply but when I gave him none, he resumed talking.

"You see, the managers disposed me off quite too soon and I wished to see more of the Opera house, so here I am wandering about like a vagabond thief," his words were cheerful and impish but there was something resolute about his posture and voice.

"May I know your name, Mademoiselle?" He was looking at me with a glint in his eyes; he was no better than the philandering men that were the usual occupants of such influential positions.

"No, you may not." My voice was flat and devoid of any emotion but my eyes had a hint of hostility in them.

"A mere dancer and such audacity!" he laughed. The previous glint that his eyes had possessed, evaded them now. And yet, he looked at me, as if he knew me.

A foreboding filled me. This man was not what he seemed like.

Thankfully, Mme. Giry arrived moments later. She saw the hostility on my face and asked our new patron for the reason of his current whereabouts.

He assumed an air of nonchalance and told her that he wished to see more of the Opera house. He had found me on the way and had tried to make my acquaintance for the purpose of my assistance, but that I had blatantly refused.

"She was right to do so, Monsieur, she has a lot of work to take care of. I can be of assistance to you. Come, let me show you around," Mme. Giry's words were stern yet hospitable.

They turned to leave. He smiled mischievously at me and left.

I returned to my work. When the day ended, I was feeling restful again. The sun was setting, so I seized my notebook and ascended to the balcony. I sat down against the inner wall and commenced to draw. Slowly, darkness pervaded the air and the night bloomed fully.

I closed my notebook and my eyes as well. The air was cold and breezy, it felt good against my skin.

"May I see your notebook?"

I glanced up in surprise to see Erik looking at me. His face was masked and he wore a black cloak. He looked darkly imposing and beautiful.

"Erik" I acknowledged him. A sweet warmth filled me.

He knelt down and sat beside me in the shadows. He gently took the notebook from my hands and opened it. It was a full moon night; there was enough light for him to look through my morbid drawings. He saw my most recent one. I had sketched the sunset, but instead of the horizon that my eyes had witnessed, the sun was dissolving into a horizon of burning fire in the picture.

"Marvelous," he whispered.

He turned the pages and came across my other drawings. They were morbid and strange, but he seemed impressed by my art. At last he came to my drawing of him in the balcony. I blushed and snatched the notebook away from his hand. I turned my face to the other side; I could not bear to look at him then.

"You draw beautifully."

I turned to face him and smiled with some difficulty.

Then his face grew solemn and he asked me in a grave tone, "What did he want with you?"

"You mean that new Patron?"

"Yes."

Oh, he wanted me to show him around the Opera house, but Mme. Giry came and helped him."

"I see."

I glanced at him curiously, his face was grave and a hint of anger glinted in his eyes. I surprised myself by erupting into a fit of giggles. Realizing what I had done, I controlled my jaunty demeanor and looked at him. He seemed surprised as well.

"Why did you laugh?"

"It was on a whim, it meant nothing."

"You already lie to me enough, Rose." His eyes were gentle, yet stern.

"You looked...jealous. And I found it amusing."

"Why would you find it amusing?" his eyes were smoldering.

"Because it can't be true," I whispered, looking away.

"Look at me, Rose."

I started to get up but he grasped my hand and pulled me down.

He gently grabbed my face with his hand and forced me to look at him.

"Don't you already know, Rose? Don't my eyes tell you enough?"

His eyes were burning with emotion.

"Why do you find it so hard to believe?"

"You love Christine and I cannot equal her," I said, softly.

He let go of me.

"I thought I did, Rose. And I wanted for her to save me from this eternal abyss, but she was just as frightened of it as I was! Poor girl!"

His face was twisted with pain.

"Do you not realize that you saved me, Rose? And how in the world can you even compare yourself to her? You do not even see yourself clearly! You foolish, foolish girl.

"Despite your beliefs, my feelings for you will not change. I cannot fight this, and nor can you, my strange girl."

The last of the warmth that I had denied myself, now invaded me. I reached out to caress his face and he pulled my form closer to his. Then gently, he enveloped me in his arms and I softly kissed his neck before burying my face in his chest. I wished that this moment would never end. And it never did. For I knew it would become eternal within the formidable depths of my soul.


	15. Chapter 15-Torment

_**"I fell in love with you. I didn't do it on purpose." **_

_**― L.J. Smith, The Hunter**_

**Chapter-15-Torment**

Ecstasy. Elation. Peace.

Erik loved me. A small tear escaped my eye. It was a release; a release from the daunting question that had always cursed me within- Will I die without ever tasting love? I knew inside that the very question must have haunted Erik as well. And now it had been answered for both of us.

And such a beautiful answer. Such a sweet no from life.

I thanked God for Erik. I had never experienced such gratitude in my heart.

I slowly lifted my head up and looked at him. The way he looked at me, it made my heart sting; it was such sweet and tormenting pain. He smiled and leaned into me, and whispered in my ear- " You are what I had always needed."

This time, I did not care about the scarlet seeping into my cheeks. He leaned back and slowly brushed his fingers against my face.

"Let me take you to your room now, Rose. You need to rest; you have only begun at getting your health back."

"How wicked of you to make such a demand of me, Erik. How can I let you out of my sight tonight? You are like a beautiful dream come true, so different from the nightmares that I usually live in."

His smile was surprisingly melancholy.

"I am a nightmare too, Rose. You have seen my true form."

"No, Erik," I said, stormily.

"You are beautiful, and I will not let even a single soul undermine that truth, not even you. Do you understand?"

"Such wonderful ferocious eyes you have. Are you sure that your soul is human?"

He had only jested but it took me a moment to realize that fact. I quickly masked my emotions and replied- "No Erik, you love a demon."

But he was not fooled by my jestful masquerade. He looked at me gravely. I had secrets and we both knew that, but tonight was not the night for them to be revealed. In fact, I was not even wholly sure of whether my cursed powers had actually returned to haunt me.

"You will tell me some day soon, Rose. You will tell me what plagues you."

"Not tonight, Erik. Nothing plagues me tonight. My soul is at peace, but the peace is severely dependent upon your presence, I am afraid." I smiled slightly.

He got up and lent me his hand. I took it and let him help me stand up.

"I will heed your demands, Rose. But rest, you will." he commanded.

The mere thought of going into his beautiful lair again filled me with child-like joy. I felt a grin envelope my face. He smiled at my expression and extended his hand towards me. I gladly took it and let him lead me to his ethereal lair.

888

Some places are beautiful, but they are a thousandfold more beautiful to you because they connect to your soul. They hold the kind of beauty that you want to see. That was what Erik's lair meant to me. It had a surreal, carnival-like beauty, something I had never witnessed in my whole life but had yearned to.

Soon I was engrossed with admiring Erik's abode; I became lost in my own world. Erik softly embraced me from behind, sliding his arm along my waist. The sweet warmth that possessed my heart around his presence was at its height. The feeling was so ethereal that it was almost tormenting. I turned around and faced him. His face was solemn but his eyes burned with emotions-love, joy and sweet torment. Yet his face was half-hidden, and I wondered why. Did he not believe that I loved him for what he was?

"Erik, you do not need to wear that mask in my company. My affection stands for who you really are, and you must realize that."

I gently broke free from his embrace and walked over to the edge of the turquoise waters that circumpassed his abode. I sat down on the ground and dipped my hand in the water, savoring the coldness against my skin. After some moments, I felt his presence beside me. I glanced at him; he had shunned his masquerade. There was a certain kind of vulnerability that he possessed without his mask. His genius and his exalted aura also became more pronounced; the mask inhibited his raw soul.

I smiled at him. His face was no longer solemn; it mirrored his previously haunting eyes.

"Rose, I love you."

My heart jolted at his sapid words. The smile abandoned my face as I turned my form towards his. He held out his arms and I happily embraced him. I drew back and looked into his blue-green eyes again; they were beautiful. My gaze fell to his lips, my heart beating vehemently. I could not restrain myself any longer; I pressed my lips against his. I could feel his slight initial shock, but then he kissed me back. The kiss was soft and feathery; our lips softly brushing against each other's, and the softness was surprisingly moving. And then it turned ardent, passion and urgency fusing in our hearts. We broke away, slightly smiling, breathless. The emotion never left his eyes, he had never looked more beautiful- vulnerable and full of love.

He made me stand up and gestured to his swan bed.

"You can sleep here tonight. I will not disturb you."

"Only if you sing me to sleep, Erik."

He went around and killed some of the flames of the candelabra's; drowning the room into half-darkness. He took my hand and led me to the beautiful swan bed. He sat down, and I gently laid myself on the bed, my head nestled in his lap. He softly caressed my face and played with my hair, earning the wicked scarlet on my face.

And then he softly sang to me his Music of the Night. I almost cried in the music's beauty and his angelic voice. He was an unbelievable genius, he was beautiful, and he was mine.

I kissed his hand and told him that I loved him. Sleep had already started to invade me. Half drowned in slumber I heard him hum a new tune, and it was more beautiful than the last. I wanted to ask him about it, but the darkness dragged me down.

* * *

**Well, finally! I was tempted to write this chapter in Erik's point of view for that would have been somewhat easier for me to do, but I chose the hard path, haha. I hope you liked it! **


	16. Chapter 16-Discovery

_**"There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told." **_  
_**― Edgar Allan Poe**_

**Chapter-16-Discovery**

My eyes drifted apart and witnessed the first hesitant rays of the sun enter my room. Bitter disappointment hit me when I realized that I was in my room; had everything that had happened yesterday been a mere dream? But then my eyes fell on a piece of yellow paper lying upon my bed. I picked it up and read-

_Dear Rose, _

_I did not want to disturb your peaceful slumber, partly because you required it and partly at the cause of another reason- you appear quite innocent in your sleep._

_Enjoy your day, I believe you will be heavily occupied throughout. Enter your cupboard in the evening, the inside door shall be open for you. I will be waiting._

_With Love,_

_Erik._

A smile conquered my heart and face as I read the note. Yes, I did have an occupying day to face, but the excitement of seeing Erik again had reduced my mental faculties to dust. Still, with some effort, I willed myself off the bed and got up to greet the day, grudgingly.

888

Our strange patron, while not too old, was quite experienced with opera's and Opera houses. He had played patron to many other theaters in the past, and was fully aware about the way it all worked. He arrived today to witness the rehearsal, and tried to assist wherever he could, much to the managers' vexation, who thought his assistance to be largely unnecessary interruption.

At the moment, I did not have an active role in the Magic Flute- the Opera which was to be performed. But Mme. Giry had insisted that I be the understudy of Pamina, and I had to start learning the role once I was finished with the intricate work required in the fashioning of the backdrops.

I was engrossed in my work when I heard a voice behind me-

"Are you a witch, Mademoiselle?"

I turned and saw that it was Augustine. His smokey grey eyes were twinkling with mischief. I had been working at the corner of the stage, and now every eye was riveted to us.

"What did you say, Monsieur?" I kept my voice even and steady, even though my heart was thudding crassly within my chest.

"You have magic in your hands, Mademoiselle. You are fortunate that you reside ahead in time, or you would been have accused of witchcraft and burned at the stake!"

Everybody burst into laughter. It sounded heinous to my ears.

Thankfully, Mme. Giry arrived and reproached Augustine for his rude demeanor.

"But I was merely praising the girl, Madame, I assure you!"

"Monsieur, I would appreciate it if you ended your jestful demeanor for today."

He threw up his hands in mock-defense and walked off the stage, smiling.

Mme. Giry turned to me.

"The day is about to end, Rose. Go to your room and rest."

I wondered about Mme. Giry. Did she know about mine and Erik's romantic liaison? Her face revealed nothing; I would ask Erik about it.

I left the stage and headed towards my room. My mind was preoccupied with questions. Did Augustine's antic have a clandestine meaning? Could he possibly know the truth about me?

I had been so engrossed in my thoughts that I had become oblivious to my surroundings. I now noticed that there was a man standing at the end of corridor. His old fashioned yet beautiful attire dictated his wealthy demeanor. He appeared to be lost, he was quite possibly looking for the managers. I decided to offer him my assistance. But before I could call out to him, he turned his back towards me.

Fear shot through my being as I saw that the man had a ghastly gunshot wound at the back of his head. An immense amount of blood had seeped through the wound and it was now clotting with his hair. I then realized that I could very partially see through the man. The truth struck me like a sharp knife- this man was a ghost.

I could not move. My heart slowed down; it was as if it had stopped beating out of apprehension. I felt a slight suffocation grip my lungs.

The man turned towards me. My fear was at its insidious height now; I was helpless and paralyzed. He started walking towards me, his eyes full of malice.

Just then I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. I jumped slightly with fear, and turned back to see who it was. It was Augustine. For the first time he seemed not jestful or mischievous, but solemn.

He leaned towards me and whispered in my ear- "If you see them, they see you. So pretend that you don't."

He leaned back and looked at me.

"Do you know the way to the managers' office, Mademoiselle?" He proclaimed in a loud voice, pretending to look about the place.

"Yes, come with me," I replied in a flimsy manner.

I walked ahead of him, my knees felt weak with fear. I averted my eyes from the ghost. We walked past him. Thankfully, nothing happened. I looked behind to see that the specter was now gone.

We walked in silence though my mind was possessed with a plethora of questions. How could he see the ghost? Was he like me? Did he know about my past or about the nature of my being?

We came to the managers' office. He turned towards me, he seemed to have retained his jestful and nonchalant demeanor. He did not seem even slightly fazed by the apparition he had witnessed just moments before.

"I inquired about your name and your fellow dancers helped me. Rose, you have a beautiful name." His glance was flirtatious but I was much too absorbed in fear and apprehension to care about it.

"How could you...?" I could not form the proper words to say.

"See the ghost?" he said, with an absolutely aloof expression.

"Rose, do not fret, you shall know all. In time."

He smiled and entered the room, shutting the door behind him.

I stood there for a moment, unable to comprehend all that had happened. It was true then, my powers were returning. Augustine's antic was unfortunately accurate- I was a witch. I held powers within me that could destroy and maim. My magic was cursed, and it was coming back to haunt my soul. I had already displayed two of my powers, I remembered the way I had altered the weather on my whim in the balcony, and I now I could see the dead. I prayed that the last talent I held would not return; it was the most hideous of them all. I felt my composure collapse and my heart fill with dread. I wanted to cry out in pain. I wanted to see Erik. I could not tell him yet, no. But I yearned for his embrace, the warm abode of his arms. He made me feel beautiful, he took away my pain.

I almost ran to my room. I opened the cupboard and turned the latch of the inside door. It opened and I walked into the tunnel. I closed the door behind me and turned to look for Erik.

I detected a faint light in the darkness. It took some time for my eyes to adjust to the dark surroundings and I noticed Erik's form, hidden in the shadows. The light had been coming from the lantern he was holding. He stepped out of his shadowy concealment and faced me. His face was masked and he wore his black peruke. He looked intimidating, grand and beautiful. I assumed that he must have somewhere to take me, for he had donned his masquerade.

He smiled his alluring smile, and extended his hand towards me. I wanted to collapse into his arms and tell him of the woe that plagued my soul, but I restrained my tears and smiled at him. I took his hand and went towards him, he lightly held my waist and commenced to lead us towards his lair.

It took all my self-control to remain calm in-front of Erik. I did not say a word, in fear that my voice would betray my face. We soon reached his lair, and the captivating beauty of it did not fail to amaze me, even in my misery.

"I have something to show you," he said, in his beautiful husky and elemental voice.

He led us towards his piano and and made me sit down beside him. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and commenced to play.

I could not fully describe the beauty of the music that he played. There was agony and love and longing, all together in his inexplicable music. It was monstrous at the level of its perfection, it was the song of a Dark Angel. He really was an Angel of Music.

"Erik, if I try to describe this in words to you, I would be doing you an injustice."

He smiled at me, his eyes brooding.

He had not sung with the music,I asked him if he had written any lyrics for it and he told me that I would hear them sometime soon.

He had held pain in his heart for an eternity. He had held such beauty within himself, with not a soul to appreciate it and love it. I wanted to make him happy, I yearned to be with him forever. I would fight my powers, I would do anything to stay with him. I knew that I would never harm him, even if I truly became the monster I was. He made me human.

I embraced him, clutching him tightly. He returned the embrace and softly kissed the top of my head. I let a few tears escape soundlessly. I wanted to tell him everything, I wanted to end the burden on my soul, but I was afraid.

He released me suddenly, and made me face him.

"Rose, why are you crying?"

Worry had seeped into his eyes. He looked grave.

"Nothing, Erik. I am merely tired."

"It's that insidious patron, is it not? He will not leave you alone."

Anger had drenched his eyes and voice was brimming with threat.

"No, Erik. He was merely jesting today. You need not care about him."

"Then why are you crying?" he questioned me, his voice still grave.

"I find it hard to believe that I have you Erik. If I could, I would never leave you. I just sometimes cannot comprehend how fortunate I am to have you. I love you, Erik."

Another tear escaped my eye. He stopped it with his finger before it could fall down. He wiped my eyes, and softly kissed them.

"You are still not more fortunate than I am."

He leaned away and smiled at me. But he had not been utterly convinced, he knew that something tortured my being. I did not want to lie to him any further, but I had no choice.

"Come, get up, Rose. I have something else to show you."

888

Soon we were in the star-room, the room that he had earlier taken me to. This time he opened the window in-front of me, sliding the wooden wall to reveal it.

Just like before, it seemed as if a part of the night-sky had descended towards me. This time, a beautiful crescent moon adorned the sky, accompanied by a few lone stars. It was breathtakingly dark and beautiful-the forlorn and enchanting cobalt sky and the silver moon.

We sat down and he cradled me in his lap. He leaned into me and very gently placed his lips on mine. I tasted his longing and passion. I felt one with him, his fears, his love, his genius. I wondered about the day where I would be able to share my thoughts with him. Would he accept me? Would he love me despite the distortion in my soul? Despite the fact that I was a cursed witch?

We stayed in the room for a few hours, admiring the night, until I finally felt sleep invade me.

I was half-asleep when I felt Erik carry me back into the lair. He gently laid me onto his bed, and started walking away. A slight worry restrained my complete sleep- I had to work tomorrow and it was just an hour to dawn.

"Erik, but..."

"Sleep, my Rose. You do not have to go anywhere tomorrow."


	17. Chapter 17-Evil

_** "I'm Gentleman Death in silk and lace, come to put out the candles. The canker in the heart of the rose."**_

_**― Anne Rice, The Vampire Lestat**_

** Chapter-17-Evil**

** (Erik)**

Unearthly. She was unearthly. Her skin always glowed with an inexplicable luminescence, even when she was troubled. And her eyes, those eyes could cut through me like daggers and lay open my soul at her expense. But she had loved that soul. She had loved me.

I looked at her sleeping form and felt a warmth pervade my entire being. It was the fire of love; she was my hearthside. I felt for her strongly, for this strange beautiful girl. I loved her with a ferocity that was new, even to myself. I had wanted Christine so that I would have love in my life. An ounce of compassion to save me from damnation. But I _needed_ Rose. My soul, my entire being needed her. She did not pity me, or feel sorry for me because of my distorted fate. She understood me, she appreciated the man I was inside. She had saved this man; she had saved my soul.

She was one with me. But I was not one with her.

I could not share her sorrow, because I did not know what caused it. This wonderful girl, this intelligent soul, I yearned to know what plagued her. But she would not tell me. What was she hiding that was so terrible that it haunted her fiery eyes with such monstrosity? I wanted to protect her, she seemed so fragile at times, tired of fighting with things that chose to reside in the dark as terrible secrets. The thought of anything even remotely harming her, filled me with horror. I would kill for her, I would die for her. My heart felt heavy for fear and fury had invaded me. I wanted to hold her in my arms and never let her leave. She would always be impregnable in my company.

Her dark beautiful hair slightly concealed her perfectly sculpted face. I walked towards her and sat down on the bed beside her innocent sleeping form. I brushed off the locks from her face. The sight of her peaceful face made my heart heavier. I would do all that I was capable of to make the peace stay in her heart. I knelt towards her and softly kissed her forehead, careful not to impede her slumber. The fragrance that wafted from her body was enchanting; the beautiful scent that was found in the thick of the forest, surrounding a bunch of exotic flowers of the night.

She had cried today. But why? It must have been because of that asinine patron. I had witnessed the way he looked at her. His whole countenance reeked of malice. I felt rage inhibit my senses; I became, for a moment, absolutely lost in the emotion. I decided to follow the man and divulge his intentions towards Rose. There was no alternative path to follow.

I left Rose sleeping quietly in my lair as I headed towards the boat. I would not be gone for long, I was assured that I would be back before she opened her eyes.

888

After some time, I was in Box Five, waiting for Madame Giry to enter the place. After some moments, she came, looking positively furious.

"Where is Rose?"

"Do not fret, she is in the lair, sleeping. I am taking care of her." I answered, attempting to calm her.

A part of the fury departed from her face.

"Madame Giry, did you bring what I had asked you to bring?"

"Yes, Erik. But I still do not understand why you asked for the whereabouts of that Patron's dwelling. He is of no harm to you."

"Mme. Giry, did it evade your observation, the manner in which he looks at her?"

Mme. Giry contemplated for a moment. I could see that she was internally agreeing with my premise.

"Go now. Dawn has just struck, he will be leaving for here very soon. Make sure you're not seen. The carriage is waiting for you outside the back-door near the old Green room."

I nodded and left for the proposed destination.

888

Soon I was impersonating a carriage-driver, a voluminous grey cloak with its hood veiling my face. I stood outside the old mansion where the Patron resided. After some moments, he emerged from the door, an elaborate black cape decorating his malevolent persona.

He saw my carriage and proceeded towards it. He sat down, dictating me to go to the nearest cemetery. I whipped the horse into motion.

Eventually, we reached the graveyard. He stepped off the carriage, paid me and proceeded towards the haven of the dead.

I turned my carriage and pretended to drive away. When I was out of the reach of his eyes' observance, I parked the carriage near a group of trees, safely hidden from any bystander's wandering sight.

I was aware of a covert entrance to the mausoleum that resided in the cemetery. After some moments, I was in the mausoleum, looking at the patron's form, from the faded tinted glass of the building. He stood in the middle of the cemetery, his gaze directed towards a particular grave he had come to visit.

He closed his eyes, and vehemently breathed in the cold air. Suddenly, the sky turned dark, killing the rays of the sun that had begun to paint the sky in light. Heavy clouds robbed the sky of its early effervescence. I looked at the Patron, he was making peculiar motions, waving his right hand slightly in the air, his eyes still closed.

And then I looked down on the ground. Fear and realization penetrated my mind. A bunch of flowers, that had been blooming near his feet, began to slowly move from the ground. Their leaves and vines grew towards him, encircling his feet. Soon the flowers were forming a wreath around him, of their own accord. I could not wholly grasp the spectre happening infront of my own eyes. Now the flowers surrounded his feet, forming a large wreathed-style bouquet. He stepped out of the circle of flowers, and picked them up. He ran his hands over the wreath, and I watched as the flowers turned to a shade of morbid black infront of my vision.

Magic. Dark Magic.

I was not a fool; I knew magic existed, a precious and haunting secret that resided within the power of few. As a child when I had been a part of that damned circus, I had seen things that I would not believe if I had seen them now. But I had seen them, the truth about the existence of supernatural realms had been branded onto my innocent mind.

This man was dangerous, was he a sorcerer of some sort? I did not care about him, but I worried about his intentions towards Rose or this Opera house. He was a threat. One that could not be conveniently or easily beaten. Coldness grasped my heart.

He took the wreath of black flowers and placed them gently on the grave. He left the cemetery. When I was assured that he was no longer in sight, I left the mausoleum and proceeded towards the grave. I read the name-

Sylvia Montgomery.

**(Augustine)**

The sky was grey, as I intended it to be. It would rain soon, the sky crying out for salvation. It would echo my mind. I had lived an eternity, like the stormy sky, grey within my heart and soul. But now I would have someone to share that beautiful and monstrous sky with me. A companion in my darkness. Someone who belonged to it. I would have her soon, she was meant to be mine. It was destiny.


	18. Chapter 18-Formidable

**I apologize for the delay in this upload, but I had fallen ill and could not write for some time. I will try my best to keep the count of days between the uploading of the chapters as less as possible. And I would also like to thank all my reviewers and followers. I am glad that you like the story so far.**

**888**

**_"Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires." _**

**_― William Shakespeare, Macbeth_**

**Chapter 18- Formidable**

Blissfully dark. The air was heavy with a scent that was overpowering, feline yet beautiful. I was in a forest. I felt like I had been here before, but I could not decide when. The sight of the tall trees, and of the enchanting flowers that bloomed, raptured my heart with an effervescence that was unnatural. Suddenly, yellow and red lights pervaded the scene, floating around like little elvish spirits. Beautiful, just like the lights in the Opera house. There was no fear in me, I was completely captured by the wonderful place I was in.

My eyes turned towards a tree. There he was, my Erik. His face was hidden in the shadows, and he was leaning against the bark of the tree. He was captivating, his persona dark and grand. I started walking towards his form. I reached near him but I still could not see his face; the shadows hung over him like protective dark spirits. He held out his hand and I saw that he was offering me a flower. I took it, and internally cried out in awe. It was a rose, but it was black. Still it shimmered under the moon; it was darkly exquisite. The petals were unnaturally flawless. I lifted my eyes up and gasped. I hurriedly took some steps back.

Augustine stood infront of me, his figure dark and imposing. Fear rushed into my being and inhabited my eyes. He seemed slightly staggered by my fear of him and tried to calm me, reaching out for my hand. The rose fell from my hand, as I turned back and saw that I was now on the edge of a cliff, black abyss greeting me from below. I turned to look at Augustine, he had his arms open, hoping that I would come to him.

I turned and jumped.

I opened my eyes, my heart beating out wildly, and my mind heavy, as if in a trance. It took me some moments before I felt some of the fear dissipate from within me. I glanced around and realized that I was in the lair. Relief flooded me in waves that were almost painful to bear. I looked around and saw that Erik was nowhere to be seen. Where was he?

I abandoned the bed and roamed around, admiring the exquisite things that were placed in his lair. Anxiety still choked my heart that felt heavy, beating with a slow rhythm.

Suddenly I saw Erik, rowing his way towards me in the black boat. The mask adorned his face and he appeared to be completely remote; no expression outlining his bare face. Soon he stood infront of me, stroking my face with his gloved hand. I took his mask off, attempting to carefully observe him. Now, I saw that his face was not remote; a thread of consternation lilted in his eyes.

"What happened, Erik?"

He feigned a look of perplexity at my inquiry and walked away from me.

"What would you like to do today, Rose?"

"I think that I must go back, Erik. I have work to take care of and soon people would commence to wonder about my whereabouts."

"No, you needn't go back. Madame Giry shall arrange for someone to do your work. You will stay here, Rose." I could see that he was trying to restrain his emotions.

"But that is _my _work, Erik, and I must go. What is wrong, is something bothering you? You must tell me."

He turned his back to me, and I could see that he was attempting to calm himself.

"Alright. Go if you must. But you must promise me one thing."

He walked towards me and clutched my shoulders, firmly looking into my eyes.

"You must stay away from that patron, for my sake. And when the night falls, come to the lair through the cupboard. You will not sleep alone. It is not safe."

I yearned to know what had caused these words, but I could see the way his eyes were haunted, and decided not to inquire about it. He would tell me when he pleased.

"I will do as you say, Erik. Do not worry," I leaned towards him and kissed him softly, hoping to ease the fears in both of us.

**888**

**Augustine**

I watched as the insidious rehearsals went on. They were mundane and tedious. But I could not resist missing them, for I could look at her, my beautiful Rose, because of them. There she was, quietly working in the corner of the stage, invisible to everyone but me. Her long dark hair slightly covered her face, making her look mysterious and dark.

And she was dark, this wonderful enchanting creature. She possessed powers that were enormous in their quality and quantity, yet she never harnessed them. It was shameful for a witch like her to live like that. She was made to rule over people, and not be bound by their insignificant lifestyles. I yearned to have her by my side, tell her about herself, and about me. Give her the truth, the dark and beautiful truth.

She had already harnessed two of her powers; it would not be long before she exhibited the third one. I could see that she feared her gifts, but I would make her accept them, and properly use them. She needed me, and I her.

Because no power in the world makes a difference unless you have someone to share your soul with. And our souls were alike, we were bound by destiny.

I had been lost in my thoughts when I sensed some movement on the stage. La Carlotta was practicing her routine, disturbing everybody's sanity in the process. If I had not come here for Rose, I would have quietened that ugly voice forever.

Suddenly, while tramping around on the stage, La Carlotta collided with a dancer who had been in her way, and stepped on her legs with her heel. Carlotta stepped back, and I could now see the blood dripping from the gash on the girl's leg.

From the periphery of my eye, I saw Rose get up and rush towards the injured girl. She appeared to be wrought with worry upon her friend's injury.

"Meg, are you alright?" She said, her voice restrained.

The dancer, Meg, could not answer, unable to speak through the pain.

Rose looked at Carlotta with a blood curdling stare.

"What? Why do you look at me like that? It was her fault! Foolish girl did not know her place!" Carlotta exclaimed, and turned away from them, not even slightly frayed by the injury she had caused the girl. Everyone rushed to Meg, attempting to cease the flow of blood.

But my eyes turned to Rose, pure fury had pervaded her eyes. She turned her glare to Carlotta's leg. Within a second, an invisible force whisked away Carlotta's leg, and she fell flat on her face with a terrible impact.

The woman cried out in pain, and the others rushed to her. She managed to get up and cried out more furiously when she noticed the blood dripping from her head.

But pure joy invaded my heart. Rose had harnessed her third power, the most formidable one. I looked at her, despair had flooded her eyes. She quietly ran away from the stage, and nobody took any notice of her departure.

I sat in my chair, contemplating the series of events. Such a fortunate series of events. Now all I had to do was to talk to her, give her the assistance she needed. Painful ecstasy burned within me. I would have her. I would have her love. She was mine.


	19. Chapter 19-Despair

_**"Every Night and every Morn**_

_**Some to Misery are born.**_

_**Every Morn and every Night**_

_**Some are born to Sweet Delight,**_

_**Some are born to Endless Night. " **_

_**― William Blake, Songs of Experience**_

**Chapter 19- Despair**

_**1854**_

"Sophia, I want to go out in the rain. Please give me that umbrella!"

"No, Rose! For what do you want to go out in such a stormy weather? The sky is dark and terrible and if you get wet, your father's rage would be impossible to counter!"

"That is why I ask for the umbrella, Sophia. You foolish maggot!"

Upon this furious insult, little Rose received a hard slap on her face.

"An eight year old with such words on her tongue!" Sophia fumed. "It is not completely a surprise though, with that despicable father of yours ranting about his devilish words inappropriately, all the time."

Sophia calmed herself down. The poor child had been forbidden to leave the house. She was aware of Rose's love for nature, though she could never understand it. Tears had begun to envelope the white of the little girl's eyes.

"No, my Rose, do not cry. Come, sit down near the hearth, and let me make you a cup of warm milk."

Sophia looked at the umbrella, it was carefully placed upon the top of a shelf that was well above the reach of the girl's height, even if she used her father's chair to reach up to it.

She went into the kitchen, leaving Rose near the fireside.

After some moments, she returned, holding the cup of milk in her hand. Rose still sat in the same position, staring into the fire.

"Here, my child. Take this." Sophia leaned down to hand Rose the cup, but what she saw made her draw her breath.

"Rose, how in the world did you get that umbrella down?"

The room was as it had been, no furniture had been moved, not a single thing out of place. Sophia had not even heard of any movement from the kitchen, which was quite nearby which was just adjacent to the room.

Rose looked at Sophia and said with a cheeky grin-" I just made it come to me, Sophia. Can I go out now?"

* * *

Pain tainted my soul. I wanted to destroy. Everything. Even myself. I cursed the day that I had been born upon the face of this earth. A creature such as myself had no purpose in the world. I was an abomination.

I had run away from the stage. I entered my room and walked upto the mirror on the cupboard. I looked at the reflection of my abominable self. No. I do not want to look at this.

Crack.

The mirror cracked into a million tiny pieces. I looked at the wooden cupboard and concentrated. A bar of wood sliced out of the door with reluctance. I felt slightly afraid upon seeing the specter that I had caused myself. The wooden bar flew into my hand and I lost control.

The rage and despair in my heart commenced to destroy the room, like a storm blazing through it. My physical and mental powers were beyond my control. They were controlling me now. I was a monster and I could not escape it now. It had all come back to me.

A thought struck me. I could escape it, escape it all forever.

I mentally commanded the lantern into the air, infront of my eyes. I smiled as the flames crashed into the ground and grasped the bed-sheet lying on the ground. I watched it spread. I smiled and prayed to God that He would take care of Erik. Erik, I love you. I will always love you. The fire grew hot and had now spread throughout the room. It would all come to an end soon. I smiled and waited.

Suddenly, a hand covered my mouth and commenced to forcefully drag me away. My lungs felt constricted and I could not see through the smoke.

No, please don't. I weeped feebly for return into the fire.

I felt my thread of thoughts shatter away as the absence of air in my chest finally dragged me into unconsciousness.

* * *

**4000 views! Thank you readers. I shall upload tomorrow as well; courtesy the weekend.**


	20. Chapter 20-Saved

_**"I have seen the dark universe yawning**_

_**Where the black planets roll without aim,**_

_**Where they roll in their horror unheeded,**_

_**Without knowledge, or lustre, or name." **_

_**― H.P. Lovecraft, Nemesis**_

**Chapter 20- Saved.**

**(Augustine)**

Just one moment more. One moment and the fire would have reached for her dress. The pain that had seared in my heart had been unbearable. If I had come a moment later, the fire would have consumed her. And all that because she detested her powers? What had she done that she came to detest them so much?

I would have to stay away away from her, while keeping closer than ever. But when I had went to rescue her, I had felt a presence behind the cupboard, trying to break through. After the fire had been doused and killed, I had went there to check, but not a soul could be seen, not even inside the destroyed cupboard. Who had it been and where had they gone?

I looked at her sleeping form on the bed. She looked peacefully beautiful. Sweet pain invaded my soul. She was a child of magic. A woman of enchantments. She would find her true happiness only with someone who could show her the higher beauty that she held within herself. I yearned for the day where I would tell her of my heart, and of her's, which were the same. Acceptance and understanding and magical delight. I yearned for it all.

The whole opera house was talking about in hushed tones, about the sudden fire in her room, and of the way I had heroically rescued her.

The creaking of the door interrupted my thoughts.

"Monsieur Augustine, you can go. I will take care of her. You do not need to worry."

I internally cursed Giry for her unnecessary concern. I could take care of Rose, but the nonsensical woman had to intervene everytime. I left the room with one last look at my muse.

**888**

**(Rose)**

I woke up with the thought of Erik. Where was he? Had he saved me? Had he seen my cursed powers? Would he love me despite of the monstrosity in my soul? Foreboding filled my heart.

A sharp pain in my lungs disrupted my thoughts and I began to cough violently. Mme. Giry, whom I had not noticed before, ran upto me and offered me a glass of water. I gratefully took it and calmed the tumult in my lungs.

"Rose, are you alright now?"

"Yes, Mme. Giry, I feel better, thank you."

"He wants to see you, Rose." I knew she was talking about Erik.

"Did he save me?"

"No, Monsieur Augustine did. You shall express your gratitude to him tomorrow, but now Erik is waiting for you in the balcony. If you do not feel fine, you can stay here and meet him after some time."

"No, I am fine. I shall go." Fear clawed at my heart. It was the kind of fear that tears at your soul and at your very being. What would happen? Was I to lose Erik forever? Anxiety had filled me with such intensity that I felt nauseated.

Mme. Giry helped me get out of the bed. She had changed my clothes. I was led to the balcony and then she left me at the door.

I knew I had to face him. I was close to tears.

I entered the balcony. The air was cold, too cold. But it was not and could not be any colder than the touch of fear on my heart.

There he was. He was standing at a distance, his back facing towards me.

"Erik, I am here."


	21. Chapter 21-Release

**_"I have not broken your heart - you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine." _**

**_― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights_**

**Chapter 21- Release**

He did not turn.

"Rose, why?"

I felt close to tears, I could not restrain my emotions for any longer.

"Erik, I..." I dissolved into tears before I could complete the sentence.

He turned towards me. His masked face was contorted with anger and his aura was dark and threatening. Had he really seen the monster inside me? Was I about to lose him?

He walked upto me and grabbed my shoulders, tightly.

"Why did you try to kill yourself?" His words were trailing with fire, but I realized that he was only inquiring about one thing.

"Is that why you are furious? Because I tried to end my life? Is that the only reason?" I was tempting fate.

"What do you mean, the only reason? Have you completely obliterated your sanity, you foolish girl?"

So he did not know, he had not seen the execution of my powers. I had expected relief to invade me, instead I felt a heavy burden settle onto my heart. One part of my soul wanted Erik to know the whole, sordid truth. I realized that I wanted him to know. The question that whether he would come to love me in spite of my monstrosity, was slicing through my heart like a sharp knife, with every passing moment.

"Why are you so quiet? Yes, why did you? Why did you, Rose? After the mirror cracked, I heard you setting the fire in the room! You cannot fathom the torment I endured in that moment! It sliced through my soul. You have to tell me, Rose. You have to tell me everything tonight. Tell me the reason behind the hatred you hold for yourself, for your life. I will not leave you until you do so."

His eyes were burning with rage and pain. I knew that I could not conceal my true self from him now.

"Before I tell you anything, Erik, know that I love you," I whispered.

I looked into his eyes.

"Look at the sky, Erik."

He eyes remained fixated on me.

"I said, look to the sky, Erik!"

He hesitated and turned his eyes upwards, to the clear and cloudless night sky.

"Now, close your eyes."

"Rose, what..."

"Just do as I say, Erik."

He closed his eyes.

After some moments, I could see the consternation outline his face; he was growing impatient.

"Open them."

Thunder ignited the sky with light and the terrible melody of demise. Surprise covered Erik's face as the first drop of rain hit him.

"How..."

"I don't understand why you don that mask in my company, Erik." I was crying now, but I had to show him everything. He was near the edge of the abyss that I held within myself, now was the time for him to look inside it.

The mask gently left his face and travelled towards me. I extended my hand and grasped it. Erik was astonished. I could see the shock move from his heart to his face. This was it. He was going to leave me. He would abandon me just as everyone had. But the hurt was a thousandfold excruciating. I could not describe it, I could hardly bear it.

I felt myself collapse on the floor. The tears that I had held within myself, commenced to abandon me through my eyes. I started to sob silently, covering my face with my hands.

"I'm a witch, Erik. I'm a witch! Go! Leave me! Go away."

I felt like I was suspended inside a dark eternal abyss. Hope had entirely abandoned me, and misery had possessed each part of my being.

Suddenly, I felt someone embrace me. I looked upward and saw that it was Erik. The shock had entirely left his face now, and sadness had taken its place.

"I did not want to hurt you, Erik. Forgive me," I said, through my tears.

"I am not hurt because you did not tell me about this, I am hurt because of how you've tortured yourself within. You are not a monster, Rose! You are beautiful. Within and without."

And then he embraced me firmly. I lay my head against his chest and cried. It was a release unlike any that I had experienced. My torment was flowing through my tears as I wept in the darkness, in Erik's arms. I was loved for what I was. There were no secrets to hide. I was crying out in elation, and in despair of what I endured in my life till then. It was a beautiful release.

"Erik, I love you."


End file.
